A State of Flux
by Windsett
Summary: It can be difficult to love your job when no one seems to like you for doing it.
1. Distortion

**A State of Flux**

**1. Distortion**

Ever since the 'Sugar Rush King Turbo Bug Event' as he liked – no not actually _liked_, more along the lines of 'forced by the will of the crowd because that name has now unfortunately stuck' – to call it, Surge Protector's job had become a lot more unpleasant.

At times he was tempted to say it had also become a lot harder, but that wouldn't be the complete truth. He wasn't doing anything hugely different or undertaking anything particularly challenging now. He was simply doing similar things he had always done, except he was now doing a lot more of them a lot more often.

And, as such, as he was being hated a lot more often by an increased number of them.

After the… _incident_, characters were visiting other games a lot more frequently. This increased volume of traffic wasn't anything his compressors couldn't absorb, but what did put a strain on his pathway circuits was the result of characters visiting games they'd barely even heard of before.

Emboldened by the Arcade's strengthening acceptance of bad guys and the growing trend for inter-game cooperation characters would, without even doing the most basic of background checks, launch themselves into whatever game they fancied the look of. These game environments were, at best, strange and unsettling to them and, at worst, and in actual fact most cases, critically dangerous to them. Of course any character not in their own game could be deleted permanently, but a minority of sensible characters minimised any lethal risks: they planned their route, consulted with established inhabitants and put themselves into the necessary mind set of respectful caution for their trip.

But then there were the ones who were convinced that they would never come to any real and serious harm, because why would they? If everyone could survive the Sugar Rush King Turbo Bug Event (how that ridiculous name managed to worm its way into the collective code he'd never know) there was no way they'd get hurt by taking a pleasant and well deserved midnight stroll through Hero's Duty, was there? Soothed by ignorance and self-confidence they'd go wherever they pleased, with the comforting certainty that everything would be all fine and dandy with nothing to worry about.

If Surge hadn't increased security checks and imposed tighter restrictions on travel, most of them would be dead by now, he was certain of it. No-one enjoyed seeing his solemn face pop up in the middle of a raucous race to put an end to it, or at the start of what looked set to be a promising 'pretend' fight to remind them of the new rules and precautions they must follow for their own safety. No-one liked hearing his monotonous voice wearily detail what they could and couldn't do, and as such their tolerance of him decreased and their dislike of him rose.

But, and here's what he really loved, if he did let everyone do what they wanted and people began glitching or started to get themselves killed, they'd only despise him more. Whether he did his job perfectly or neglected it completely, the sum result was the same: he was the most unpopular person in their world. He was more and more tempted to just outright ban travel to other games completely, let alone restrict it, for what was the worst that could happen?

Everyone would hate him? Already happening.

An Anti-Surge group would start an uprising against him and pull his plug? Would never be more than an empty threat.

If that did ever happen then they'd be completely exposed to any power surge and, without him shielding them - without him absorbing and re-directing any dangerous waves of electricity - they'd be overwhelmed and powerless in the face of almost certain disaster.

The amount of times Surge had responded to a desperate cry of 'but _why _do we get permanently killed if we die outside of our game?' now required a dedicated circuit board of RAM to calculate and filter. In exasperation he'd once yelled at a young woman from Dance Dance Revolution to go and ask Fix-It Felix Junior to solve that minor problem, since such an amazingly original request was clearly far too complex for him of all people to work out. The dancer was unfortunately not experienced enough with sarcasm to respond with a yell back or to simply ignore him, and had excitedly told her friends that Felix could fix it and then actually rushed off to ask him.

Being bombarded with impossible requests from hyper-active and intensely upset dancers had buckled even Felix's composure for a while, and the Handyman had tried but failed to keep his voice low and pleasant when he'd asked Surge for a quick word in private. Having the nicest person in the Arcade look at you with a flash (and it really was just a flash, since Felix wasn't programmed for anything longer) of disgusted impatience had short-circuited one of his conductive pathways. The resulting electrical drain had caused random lights and help booths throughout Game Central Station to flicker and blur for a few long seconds. When they had stabilised he was sure that they hadn't returned to full strength – that they were just a shade short of perfection – and with a dull ache knew their illumination would be forever dulled.

Not that anyone had ever noticed of course.

Today was yet another day when no-one had noticed these things, and had instead chosen to gush out of their respective games upon the Arcade's closing to go and visit friends or to see if they could make some. Naturally Surge logged every character entering and exiting a game and monitored them constantly, and could focus in on anyone he chose. When a character was just about to pass through a game's tunnel the near translucent screen of data always in his sight would pulse, and a soft red dot would begin to glow amidst the constantly scrolling rows and columns of pale green numbers and letters.

Just such a dot had begun to glow now and, with barely the beginning of a hint of a thought towards it, Surge instantly knew who it was, where they'd been and how long they'd been there for.

If he'd been required to breathe he would have taken a long slow breath in and let it out in a quiet groan.

It was Wreck-It Ralph.

Wreck-It Ralph. He'd been the one to start the Sugar Rush King Turbo Bug Event (such a stupid description that no-one ever seemed to question) simply because he'd become fed up of doing his job. He'd become tired of not only being taken for granted for doing it, but for being actively disliked for doing it. Couldn't he see any similarities between the two of them? Any at all? No of course he couldn't; he was far too wrapped up in his own problems to see what a self-pitying hypocrite he was.

Wreck-It Ralph had only been shunned in his game and by the characters too new or too small or too stupid to realise that they wouldn't drop down dead if they saw him in Grand Central Station, whereas he on the other hand was hated by the whole Arcade. The _whole _Arcade! _Still!_ Except unlike Wreck-It Ralph he performed his duties and respected his code all day every day, not once bending the circuits or pushing against the grid or causing near annihilation in the pursuit of stolen property.

Well, he wasn't pushing against them anymore. And certainly not bending anything again. Except for that time last week…and this morning when he couldn't help but-

Argh, it was frustrating. And boring. And time consuming and thankless and-

…and lonely. It was horrible and lonely and whenever these thoughts crept up on him he'd halt them immediately; he'd put a well-used barrier up and force them to be channelled elsewhere, so that they didn't consume him. He was a very effective surge compressor in more ways than one after all. Not that anyone ever noticed. Not that anyone even knew that a surge protector and a surge compressor were one and the same thing!

He sighed and positioned himself accordingly in preparation for a zip through the cables to meet Wreck-It Ralph leaving Sugar Rush: clipboard and pen in hand, shirt tucked in, glasses straight and head bowed.

His 'random security' checks on Wreck-It Ralph were nothing of the sort, not any more, for nothing he ever did was truly random. Not that he'd ever admit that to anyone - it had taken long enough to admit that fact to himself after all - and was one of the reasons why he'd never made eye contact with the Wrecker. And the way things were going, he evaluated dejectedly, he never would.

Surge swallowed and began to close his eyes, as the familiar warm tingle started to pool around his feet before leaking upwards. Every part of him began to vibrate, one atom at a time, before increasing in strength and frequency in less than a fraction of a second. Still within this time scale the energy stored in his capacitors contracted, focused and then exploded, his electrical field expanding to breathtaking proportions to accommodate his sudden flash through the Arcade. He could move almost instantaneously from one position to another, and was often at two different places at the same time. Working such double or triple jobs was becoming a miserable reality these days.

The red lattice that covered the tunnel into Sugar Rush glowed and buzzed as Surge materialised to intercept its most frequent visitor.

'Ah man not again!' Ralph exclaimed, throwing both arms upwards in defeat.

Yes, defeat, Surge thought bitterly, as he waited for Ralph to regain his composure and look at him. As if the Wrecker had just lost a vital battle the Protector had unfairly plunged him into and expected, against all the odds, to win.

'Where have you come from and where are you going?' Surge asked, hoping but already knowing that Ralph wouldn't appreciate being asked the two questions at once to save him some time.

Ralph sighed heavily. 'Super Mario Brothers to Final Fantasy 87.'

Fine then, Surge thought with irritation, as his eyes bored what could have been a hole through the clipboard held tightly in his hand if he had such powers. Actually if he ever had any super powers, that's not the one he'd have chosen. If he ever did become a super hero he'd have to see about getting a more imposing physique for starters. And then a uniform obviously, since your clothes say a lot about you. This uniform would radiate power and courage and devotion, the colours of which changed constantly in his mind, since he'd never had a colour other than the blue-grey shimmer he was encased in and the selection available in this life to choose from was intoxicating. And when he was split into four different copies of himself all over the Arcade and this fantasy was occurring in more than one head, the colours and details of the uniform would blur and superimpose themselves over each other and jostle for attention and prominence so that he-

'Only when you've got a minute Surge! Just take your time buddy; if you're still all cuckoo in a few minutes I'll jump back in and get ya a chocolate pop. So full of sugar you'll be like lightening on the ceiling.'

Chocolate pop! He wanted to bark out what could happen if food from one game mixed into another, but he held his tongue.

He knew that Ralph had smuggled in fruit after his first trip to Pac Man. Even without the automatic grid warning their removal had triggered, the cherries had glowed a darker and brighter red on Surge's monitoring screen and had been watched bobbing along next to the dot that was Ralph. In truth Surge had felt sorry for him. He suspected that Ralph didn't eat very well in his game, what with living in a dump and all. He also knew the man had never even had a slice of cake, so a couple of cherries would have seemed like a tempting dream made real.

He'd purposefully never made eye contact as he questioned Ralph after he exited Pac Man, and had hoped that the latest member of Bad Anon would realise his smuggling had been noticed but allowed. Surge had longed for Ralph to understand that he was really doing him a favour by pretending not to scan and search him and bring attention to his rule breaking. But of course he hadn't. All Ralph had done was insult him and amble away to munch his stolen fruit.

As soon as he'd reached his own game Surge had re-appeared to question him again just for the sheer petty hell of it.

As if Surge couldn't register the presence of all objects that passed in and out of games! He questioned everyone about smuggling things in and out in the pathetic hope that they'd nervously admit to doing just that, which would give him the chance to reluctantly forgive them and declare that no charges would be brought against them if they promised never to do it again. Then they'd smile in disbelieving relief, and he'd smile back – or wink or punch their shoulder – and the secret they'd share would be the first tenuous bond in a new friendship.

But that had never happened. Once, for almost a week, with his eyes closed, he'd interrogated everyone he knew to be smuggling something in or out by just demanding that they hand over their contraband. Instead of being slightly unsettled and even more than slightly impressed that he knew such things with his eyes closed, the stream of insults against him had only increased, and so he'd put an end to that experiment.

'Hope you ain't gone and blown a circuit there Surge. Without you I might, I dunno, have to get back to my game _without _being asked my name and if that doesn't happen then I'm locked out for the night and will have to spend it with you until I learn it. Felix's rules, not mine.'

With a crack Surge's attention realigned to the present and he felt his face flush. With a twitch he diverted that stream of superheating electrons away and raised another well-worn barrier against them before they could permeate any deeper.

He was stupid to think that Wreck-It Ralph had changed to the extent he wanted him to have done. Had _hoped_ he had done. Of all the characters in the Arcade, he wanted a kind word and maybe just a hint of positive acknowledgement from Ralph more so than anyone. It wasn't just that Ralph had shot up the popularity ranks in record time; not just that a decade's old overlooked Arcade inhabitant could gain respectability and adoration from almost everyone after such a long time. It was in the hope – the increasingly stretched and fading hope – that Ralph would realise how lucky he was compared to others who were still in his old situation. Ralph would then promise, half out of embarrassment it had taken him so long and half out of pure compassion, to do everything he could to change that.

At the same time as craving Ralph's approval Surge dreaded receiving it, for what if things turned out the same way again? What if Ralph hurt him – what if he corrupted and betrayed him – like _he _had done? The first one. The first and _only _one that Surge had wanted to connect with and actually succeeding in doing so. It was too much of a risk to take of course, far too risky. And besides, he didn't really need the reassurance of someone like that again. No, best to forget it and put a stop to all this right now.

Best to forget how it had felt to be wanted and needed and entrusted with something so incredible that no-one else had suspected it was even possible, let alone conceive of the idea that he alone had the power and the skill to make it a reality. Yes, definitely for the best to forget it.

Surge finally raised his head to look at Ralph and the eye contact made him twitch but, before he could open his mouth to say something, his attention was diverted. His monitoring screen had beeped once, twice and then three times in quick succession before tripping his secondary warning alarm. Three more characters were about to exit Sugar Rush.

Not a problem in itself, but these dots were burning pin-points of scorching white onto his screen and travelling at a dangerous speed.

They were furious and focused and he knew that it was all his fault.


	2. Implosion

**AN: **This was originally just going to be a two-parter, but then some more ideas popped up to say hello. Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome, but more importantly thank you for taking the time to read this!

**2. Implosion**

Even though it was pointless, Surge sighed out loud.

Ralph shot him a quick puzzled look, before the loud thrumming coming out of Sugar Rush's tunnel behind took his attention.

On Surge's screen two of the white dots approaching the tunnel's exit had slowed. No, wait, they had not only slowed but had now stopped completely. They just stood there at the cusp of the barrier out of Sugar Rush, as if thinking through the proper way to exit the game.

As if hesitating and wondering how-

The metallic vibration of his final alarm system tripped and screeched its awful warning, sharply cutting off that train of thought. Surge barely had time to register a flash of neon red as a figure barrelled through the security lattice and skidded to an expert halt at his feet, a murderous expressions on her face.

He sighed again, but this time more in annoyance than apprehension. Her exit shouldn't have triggered the barrier, which meant that she hadn't been maintaining it properly. Which now meant he'd have to give her the cleaning lecture again.

The temptation to flash away and spend the rest of the day in the hidden back-up outlet whispered seductively, but he ignored it.

He may be a liar, but he wasn't a coward.

And he may not care that her birthday had been ruined, but that didn't mean he didn't care at all.

Standing straight and with his hands behind his back, he looked down into the narrow eyes glowering up out of a small fierce face. Rising onto tip toes she pushed up as far as her height would allow, one hand clenched into a tight ball and the other outstretched as far as possible, a pointed index finger mere centimetres away from his nose.

'By executive proclamation of me, President Vanellope von Schweetz, you are hereby ordered to jump into the Nesquik-Sand and spend the last few seconds of your horrible life thinking over just how horrible you are!'

Her extended finger began to tremble, and Surge felt a twist of shame and (what must be an outdated chunk of code tying to ignite) a slow rotation of fear due to disobeying a leader of a game. He burnt those doubts out immediately, and made an effort to keep his voice steady and neutral.

'Princess von Schweetz, I-' he managed to get out before being interrupted.

'That's President. _President _von Schweetz. Want me to spell it out for you? Maybe I'll just add it to all the graffiti cluttering up this place. Don't do a very good job keeping things clean here, do ya? But then again you do like to complain about things you never actually do anything about, so it is to be expected. Now, come with me to the pit of shame, you soon-to-be-stinking criminal! Come on, Nesquik quick!'

Surge felt a crackle of electricity scratch his face and his mouth twitched.

'Princess von Schweetz,' he repeated stubbornly, 'I cancelled out your 'Birthday Spectacular Fun Time Thrill Race' because glitching into oblivion is no fun, and I fail to see how it's a thrill to speed along in a dangerously modified cart towards near certain death. And the level of concern you have for the health and safety of your subjects, or "voters," is, quite frankly, abysmal.'

'Oh boy!' Vanellope threw both arms out wide and dropped down heavily onto the soles of her boots.

'You don't get to boss things about in my world, only I can do that! You promised - _promised - _that the race could go ahead so long as we followed all your boring safety rules and we did, we really did, but you cancelled it anyway and-'

'Kid, why don't we-' Ralph began, as he gently took hold of Vanellope's elbow.

'No!' Vanellope yelled, as she glitched away from the contact and looked at her friend with a fading fury and a growing despair.

'He promised Ralph! You know he did, you were there with me. And now he's broken it.'

Ralph looked slowly towards Surge who averted his eyes.

'Yeah Surge you did promise, I remember. Never had you down for a low-life liar though.'

Surge bristled and began to crack his knuckles.

'Wreck-It Ralph, the reason why Princess von Schweetz's game-' he began before being shouted down by both of them.

'President! _Prez-ee-dent._ Are you deaf as well as stupid?'

'Ralph's just fine Surge! I know I wreck things and all, but I'm not letting that label define me anymore!'

Label! Honestly. What was the point of having a full and proper name if people weren't allowed to call you by it? Sometimes you just had to accept that it wasn't possible – that it wasn't _right_ – to be called anything other than your encoded designation. It was sticking to the rules, and being sensible, and certainly wasn't anything to do with his own failed attempt at getting people to call him by a name rather than a programmed job description.

Before he allowed that particular pool of misery to suck him back in, a moving point of white on his screen hooked his attention back to the present.

Striding through the barrier she removed her helmet, glanced at Ralph, swung it behind her, nodded at Vanellope, snarled at Surge and, in one smooth motion, sunk her helmet into his stomach.

That was not unexpected behaviour.

Calhoun then took a deep breath, used her free hand to yank Surge's head up, nodded again and thanked him for doing a good job.

Neither was that.

Calhoun's conflicting treatment of him continued to provoke similar feelings towards her. On the one hand she was cold, ruthless, rude and shockingly at ease with hitting someone as a way of displaying nothing more than mild irritation. But she was also brave, loyal, focused and respected the chain of command.

She had been the first and only person to thank him for carrying out the routine and much hated exit and entrance surveys. She had proclaimed, to the disbelieving characters around them, that appropriate monitoring of personnel was essential to survival and, if they thought otherwise, they were no better educated than a hillbilly hick who thinks pixie kittens paint rainbows in the sky with tears of unbridled joy.

He also had it on good authority that he'd become only the second person in the entire Arcade to make her genuinely smile.

He'd tried to build on this unsettling and unexpected success but, precisely because it was so unsettling and unexpected, he'd left it too late. Instead of advancing any other improvements to security or adding to her tactical knowledge, he'd held back and waited for her to ask him. But she didn't. She'd consider any ideas presented, but it wasn't in her to go out and seek them; she was too stubborn and too self-sufficient. During this time she'd grown closer to Felix and, as a result, warmer to the relaxed rule-bending attitudes his group of friends were so fond of.

He'd never been attracted to her in any sort of physical sense; he simply admired her and wanted to be her.

Or maybe he was just giving far too much weight to something that was nothing more than a polite and professional exchange of ideas and information. Maybe he'd want to impress and become closer to anyone that willingly gave him the time of day. It was difficult to deduce a motivation with any certainty, since his interactions with Calhoun were the most he'd ever had in terms of anything even remotely approaching friendship since…well since Turbo, and what happened when they-

Thinking about this was at once so distressing and depressingly pathetic it caused a physical ache to settle in his chest, so he simply didn't.

Rubbing his stomach his nodded back at Calhoun.

'You're _thanking _him?' Vanellope cried incredulously. 'He lied to us and shut down the race that _you _wanted to be a part of!'

Calhoun ignored Vanellope and began wiping the visor of her helmet.

Vanellope glitched in irritation to appear at Calhoun's feet, and glared up at her. 'Why?'

Calhoun carefully finished inspecting her helmet and tucked it underneath her arm before answering.

'Because it _is _dangerous. It's one thing to plan something and banter round the blueprints with a cold beer in your hand, but executing it and actually _exposing_ your people to it is when it gets real.'

Calhoun knelt down to face Vanellope squarely.

'You read the safety report and the strongly worded suggestion to abandon the race. And what's more you _understood_ it. Bein' President ain't just about titles and simperin' subjects kid; you've got to lead, and you've got to protect those you do lead.'

Vanellope's face turned darker and she glitched again, as she folded her arms and continued her accusation.

'So you just wanted to be part of the _fun _part of the plan then. I see! It's alright for you to eat chocolate with me all night and suggest ways to make the loops bigger; that's _allowed_ when you're a leader, but when it comes to actually going through with it you back away. I know racing with children can be scary Tamora, but I never had you down for a _cow_-ard though…'

Despite knowing it was to provoke her, Calhoun jumped to her feet. Her face was tight and conflicted and she began to make a fist.

And although this was a bad time, Surge decided to speak. Let's be fair, he thought blandly to himself as he cleared his throat, there's never going to be a _good_ time for this.

'Vanellope von Schweetz,' he began, as everyone looked at him. 'I must remind you about the need to maintain the highest levels of care and attention to your device. If it is not cleaned properly, then-'

'Then what?' Vanellope interrupted.

Oh he was getting sick and tired of people interrupting him all the time. Couldn't he be allowed to finish a sentence just _once_? But before he could transfer this irritation into the form of a particularly detailed cleaning lecture, Vanellope answered her own question.

'Then the safety barrier out of my game will trigger and turn red? Yeah probably. But not this time. _This_ time it did exactly as I planned.'

Vanellope's smile was pure and genuine and fired by pride. Surge at once felt multiple tingles crawl down his spine at the sight, and sensed that both Ralph and Calhoun had stiffened at her words. Vanellope glitched again, her rainbow colours pixelating wildly for more than the usual few seconds, as her smile morphed into something approaching smugness.

'I knew all along you'd shut down my race, Mr Surge _Protector_, despite promising an innocent child with a tragic past otherwise.'

Yet another one of Surge's internal alarms cried out for attention, and he found that he'd taken a step backwards from her. Vanellope didn't appear to notice, as she glitched again in excitement and began to raise her voice.

'After I got my memories back I investigated my code room. Thought it would be sensible to make sure the Sugar Rush King Turbo Bug Event couldn't happen again. I studied and learnt my code, and now I'm in cool and total control of it. Just like when I race.'

Surge's expression made her grin even wider.

'What's wrong SP? I thought you'd be pleased I'd taken such an interest.' Vanellope glitched again and took a small circuit board out of her pocket. She connected two wires on it, and a purple flash briefly blinded everyone.

'What the-' Ralph began, as Calhoun snatched the board out of Vanellope's hand.

Instead of objecting to the theft Vanellope just continued to look smug, as Surge immediately undertook a wide frequency scan of the pulsing circuit board. With a curse Calhoun dropped the now smoking circuitry, and what materialised on Surge's screen churned his stomach.

By connecting the two wires, Vanellope had initiated the start sequence of the Birthday Spectacular Fun Time Thrill Race. But he'd shut it down! Early this morning he'd sent a long range electrical pulse to the grid matrix surrounding the Race, which ought to have short circuited it. So why was it running? He quickly did some calculations and oh.

Oh no.

Whatever Vanellope had done in the code room, she'd managed to transfer the heart of the Race's programme to _outside_ of Sugar Rush. All of Surge's efforts had been focused inside the game, and had been attacking nothing but empty space. No not quite empty space, he realised with a confliction of rage and admiration; he had been trying to destabilise a _hologram._ Vanellope had created a hologram of the Race's engine inside Sugar Rush, while its real engine – the compressed block of code that gave it existence – had been moved elsewhere. Had, in fact, been moved to somewhere in Game Central Station. And now the engine had fired up, and the Race had come alive inside Sugar Rush exactly as she'd planned.

Oh she was good, Surge reflected with a spark of pride and a bite of shame that he'd been out outmanoeuvred.

She was good but she was also stupid. Oh she was stupid. So so stupid, because she hadn't calibrated herself at the same time.

Vanellope was already unstable inside of her game let alone anywhere else, and now she'd become the conduit between a net of altered code that had already been damaged and repaired, and a cube of pure power. Her direct interference made her the perfect conductor rod between the Race's engine outside of the game and its materialisation inside of it. In theory this wouldn't be fatal, but she hadn't calibrated her device to account for it.

The raw fear on Surge's face caused Vanellope's grin to falter, and before he could say anything she understood.

Her mouth opened in terrible understanding and she glitched.

She glitched quickly and painfully, and everyone fell silent as a heavy static began to pinch and whine.

Without any conscious process behind it, Surge fell heavily to his knees in front of Vanellope and met her wide eyes with his own. His monitoring screen flooded with numbers and graphs and projections and all of them turned red and began to flash.

A warm gush of static swirled around their feet, and he dimly heard the Station's great arching windows begin to crack.

'How long between each kick?' He asked clearly and quickly, knowing he'd have to repeat himself several times because he hadn't really explained and-

'One and a half seconds,' Vanellope answered immediately, to his surprise. 'Well more like one and a half seconds plus another tiny bit on top of that. Only then does it, like, spazz about and make me itch like Ralph does when he wears smart clothes.'

His expression at her rapid comprehension made her grin again.

The electrical wind had started to heat up, causing everyone's hair to stand on end, and huge chunks of glass soon began to fall and shatter. Characters that had not already started to scream or run into the nearest game tunnel soon made up for it. Only Ralph and Calhoun stayed put; the Wrecker used his huge arms to try and form a protective roof over their heads, as the Sergeant bellowed orders into the swirling chaos around them.

'Will it fail?' Vanellope demanded suddenly, a crack to her voice and a grain of despair in her eyes.

Every window then simultaneously exploded, setting off the warning alarm and tripping the Arcade's main generator. For what seemed far longer than half a second, before the emergency lights booted up and the extractor fans roared, there was nothing but sharp pain and crushing darkness.

'No,' Surge answered softly, as he rested a hand lightly on Vanellope's arm. 'I made it, so it will hold.'

Vanellope smiled weakly in thanks, and before he could match the expression two things happened which pierced his central processor and carved his attention in half.

The first was that Vanellope glitched again, except this time it was hard and fast. Instead of turning into her usual glitching colours she crackled, hissed and then melted into a sharply outlined figure of black and white blocks of irregular size and shape. Surge's monitoring screen immediately cleared itself of everything except a pile of flashing cubes in black and white, before he felt a painful stream of code being injected throughout his entire consciousness.

A character was dying, and they were sending him a distress call.

The second event was that the last white dot had finally materialised out of Sugar Rush's tunnel. It moved deliberately and cautiously forward, stopped, began to lift something heavy in a clenched fist and slowly raised its bowed head.

It was Taffyta Muttonfudge.

And she looked triumphant.


	3. Compression

**AN: This is an extra-long chapter, so my extra thanks to you for taking the time to read it.**

**3. Compression **

* * *

Contrary to popular belief, dying outside of your game didn't happen instantly.

It took next to no time for a character's grid matrix to decompose, and for their colour and features to melt away to expose the bare blocks of raw code underpinning their appearance. But the core programming at the heart of everyone – the tightly bonded streams of numbers that sustained personality and memories – was much harder to destroy. Its survival instinct would boot up and it would fight against the annihilation looming over it. Rather than submit gracefully to a shutdown command, it would kick and scratch and spark and launch itself brutally against the opening jaws of deletion.

It was a final counter-attack on behalf of the critically injured, and it was terrifying to watch.

Usually if a character found itself facing permanent deletion, they would have a minute before their core programme was eaten away. This would allow plenty of time for Surge Protector to be alerted, to justifiably admonish their ineptness, to administer the cure in a calm and controlled fashion, and to allow everyone to go about their business without ever being alerted to the dire emergency that had played out.

Originally a character would have died instantly outside of their game, but it hadn't taken a genius to realise that if characters suddenly disappeared permanently from their games then Mr. Litwak would eventually notice, and everyone's plug would get pulled. To prevent such an inglorious fate, Surge had embedded a protective encryption layer just under the surface of everyone's external code stream. If someone had the misfortune to stumble and fall and come face to face with death, their under amour would flex and harden and the alarm would be sounded.

Their appearance might shake and burst and stream lightening but this was just superficial, as their actual self would be shielded. They would sense Surge's disapproving face, would swear they could feel the bite of the antidote patch and know, with absolute certainty, that their core programming had begun to sing as a glorious second chance was injected throughout them.

Unfortunately, Vanellope wasn't like a usual character. Not any more. Her core programming had been corrupted to such an extent that her glitching could never be resolved and, as such, she was far more likely to malfunction. After Sugar Rush had re-booted and Vanellope's memories had been freed, strands of her fundamental design had been sewn back together and she was able to leave her game.

But her degraded programming reacted badly to any environment outside of Sugar Rush, and she glitched painfully and more often than if she had remained inside. Five different encryption layers had been written and installed for her, and all five had malfunctioned. It was as if Vanellope couldn't truly adapt to life outside of her game. It was as if her body couldn't, or wouldn't, stretch itself to function somewhere other than her place of origin.

It was as if her code had been re-written to rely on an existence crafted by Turbo and Turbo only.

Vanellope's rage at figuring that possibility out had been quite spectacular, and in response she had spent as much time outside of her game as possible. As understandable as her defiance was, it also threatened to ruin her. In fact it threatened everyone, because her instability made her more susceptible to factors such as stress, lack of speed and loud noises reminiscent of explosions.

After she'd set a character on fire for the third time, Surge couldn't ignore it any more.

Could no longer pretend that Vanellope wasn't the source of wild electrical disturbances, and that her in-built desire for speed often ignited the trails of static she left in her wake.

He did however sympathise greatly with her at being stuck behind characters moving so slowly and unconcernedly that it was practically obscene. She couldn't jump into a kart and swerve around these trundling obstacles, and certainly couldn't even accidentally barge past them, as that level of physical contact would set off a fresh round of glitching and flames and highly irritating shrieking.

He'd once caught her looking at him with something approaching pure envy as he accelerated, in a zip of electricity, past a group of screeching and shuffling dancers that had somehow managed to take up the entire width of Game Central Station. When he could finally admit it, he knew that look had sustained him for a week.

With her begrudging and hard won consent, he'd examined every digit of her core programming and had come up with an idea. She'd asked him what it was, and he'd explained in such depth that her slack jawed posture had appeared depressingly quicker than he'd anticipated. Not even the unbound enthusiasm in his voice could focus her attention for long.

Just when he thought he was wasting his breath she'd questioned, with a snap to her voice, how he'd managed to access her core programming at all, and he'd changed the subject so smoothly it shocked him.

The surgery had gone exactly according to plan, and her gratitude towards him, powered by a radiant joy at simply being able to exist, had struck him like a physical blow. When he could finally admit it, he knew that look had sustained him for a month.

If it wasn't for the heroic work of the tiny capsule embedded in her arm, the President of Sugar Rush wouldn't even have made it to the fizzing block stage upon facing a terminal situation.

She would have just disintegrated.

The…pacemaker, for want of a better word, regulated Vanellope's glitching outside of her game, but could never stop it completely. Surge had designed, tested and calibrated it himself solely for use on Vanellope. It had taken him nearly two weeks to perfect it – had cost him many days fine tuning it and even more sleepless nights agonising over its every fluctuation – but near to perfect was what it had become. Vanellope's bitter irritation towards him at being confined to Sugar Rush while her lifeline was being created, in addition to his disrupted rest cycle and subsequent poor performance throughout the Arcade, were high prices to pay.

But they had been paid willingly, and were borne in silence.

Although it may not have been for very long, the capsule had thrown up a thin silver shield against the tidal wave of darkness swelling inside her. It was weak and fading but it was holding up long enough for an antidote to be administered.

And to think she had moaned and whined for two whole days about undergoing the procedure, Surge thought smugly and completely inappropriately, as he watched her black and white blocks pulse in slow motion.

Vanellope wasn't able to have a nice fat sixty seconds of limbo to wallow in like the others, but her pacemaker did guarantee her twenty seconds of prolonged life.

Plenty of time.

Surge began to call up the grid command to mix and inject her specific antidote, but before it could be completed a politely worded warning appeared out of nowhere. The letters flashed red and black, and screamed up the middle of his monitoring screen so fast that no normal eye could have read them.

PACEMAKER FAILURE IMMINENT

PLEASE RECALIBRATE AND REINSTALL

PACEMAKER FAILURE IMMINENT

PLEASE RECALIBRATE AND REINSTALL

PACEMAKER FAILURE IMMINENT

PLEASE RECALIBRATE AND REINSTALL

The final warning message that the pacemaker was about to expire had appeared.

This was bad enough, but what really caused Surge's chest to tighten was that it had appeared so soon. Vanellope had only started flashing two seconds ago! She should have had twenty seconds before she died, not just over two! Surely he wasn't that useless an engineer? But oh what if he was, and the programme he'd written was so fundamentally flawed that he'd more or less handed a drawn out death sentence to a child and he should never have been allowed to do anything to anyone let alone-

A sudden flash of the block where Vanellope's left foot used to be jerked his thoughts back on track, and he remembered some of Vanellope's last words to him.

_One and a half seconds between each kick._

One and a half seconds? That wasn't nearly long enough! If the pacemaker was under attack then there should have been ten seconds between the jolts Vanellope would have felt in her arm. There should have been half her total limbo time pulsing a warning, but there was only one and a half. So using the same calculations, one and a half multiplied by two gave her…

Oh.

It gave her three seconds before she was permanently deleted.

The excited exclamation that your world slows to a crawl in dire situations must have been gasped by pure idiots that deserved to find themselves close to death in the first place, Surge rambled to himself as he felt his entire existence kick up a gear.

This must have happened when she connected the wires on circuit board, and had activated the Birthday Spectacular Fun Time Thrill Race engine. She'd been the conduit, and although she'd adjusted the power surge to ignite the engine outside of Sugar Rush and start the race inside of it, she hadn't calibrated her pacemaker for it. She must have forgotten to do so or, perhaps, she _had_ amended it but just not enough. Maybe she underestimated the power she was manipulating and overestimated her abilities to do so.

Maybe she simply thought Surge would have already thought of this and had safeguarded her accordingly.

It was a good thing, Surge reflected wryly as his heart hammered, that he operated, almost literally, at the speed of light.

No it wasn't just good; it was damn near fantastic. It was breath-taking and almost impossible and, of course, completely unappreciated. No-one else in the Arcade could have executed several life-saving actions in such a distressingly short time span and _still_ manage to maintain an immaculate appearance.

To his frustration he wasn't able to duplicate himself and carry out all necessary tasks at once. The main generator had been tripped and it would take too long to prime it, and therefore himself, with the required power.

It was just him. One of him. Against all of this.

He looked at the only remaining characters near him. He observed Ralph slowly lower his arms down and look at Vanellope in pure distress, and heard Calhoun crunch across the glass coated floor towards where Taffyta stood rigid.

The first thing he did was collect, prioritise and plan out the actions that needed to be undertaken. With a brief ripple of panic he realised that this had taken up one whole second of the remaining time until Vanellope died permanently, and the resulting shockwaves bombarded the entire Arcade.

2 seconds left.

So, to business.

The first thing he did was override the distress call dominating his senses. He was good, but no-one could carry out important work if their ears were filled with sirens and their vision was consumed with nothing but the disintegrating innards of the dying. His monitoring screen flashed and returned to normal colours and the wailing alarm throughout the Arcade was sharply cut off. The painful chain of code that had been part of the distress warning could only be reduced to a dull ache, and could not be removed until the critically injured was cured or dead.

As if sight and sound and common sodding sense weren't enough to alert him to someone dying, he mused irritably. What idiot programmer had thought it was a good idea to provide a distracting shot of pain at the exact time he needed to concentrate more than ever? Was it supposed to make him feel sympathy with the dying? Spur him into actually doing his job? Make him fear what he'd go through if he failed? It was probably just to warn him that there was a dying character _somewhere _in the Arcade, even if he couldn't see them. But surely the pain would go once he'd registered them? Why didn't-

_Enough. There'll be time to think this through and compose a strongly worded letter of complaint later. Focus._

1.8 seconds left.

The second action he took was to initiate the emergency dampener field. Hundreds of thousands of microscopic balloons threaded throughout Game Central Station burst. Their contents immediately began to spread and solidify, thin green veins entwining and hardening, as the plaza became encased in a deceptively soft looking cushion of protective foam.

Those buried deep into each game's plug also erupted, sealing the game off from the main body of the Station. Every game was now sectioned off and running on backup power, and all characters inside them would be trying to comprehend a booming announcement that was equal parts warning, promise and apology.

They would survive even if Game Central Station was destroyed. Their outward appearance wouldn't falter and each character's performance wouldn't suffer, so Mr. Litwak wouldn't have any reason to unplug them. He would smell his surge protector smoking and see the charcoal cracks eating it and disconnect it immediately, but they were cheap to replace and so long as the games were running fine there wasn't really anything to worry about.

1.6 seconds left.

He took a deep breath, and wondered what it would feel like to fill your lungs with air so real and cold it could burst them.

Next he triggered the remote barrier enclosure.

This was an invention he was particularly proud of, and with a twinge of discomfort he saw that it worked immediately.

For decades each game's safety barrier leading into Game Central Station had been enough. It would pulse into a red lattice whenever a fluctuation triggered it, and had successfully prevented anything really dangerous from leaving or entering a game. Pac Man cherries didn't count, but other contraband items did. Surge had been reliably alerted every time something confronted the porous barriers, and was able to select an appropriate lecture while the barricade rejected and deactivated the illegal item.

But he hadn't kept up to date with the pace of technology in the outside world, and the power and intelligence that propelled Hero's Duty astonished him. The Cy-bug infested shuttle that had escaped its game and barrelled into Sugar Rush had sickened him. Obviously because it had contained a lethal threat to the entire Arcade, but smiling darkly in close second place was the painful realisation that he hadn't anticipated this. He hadn't foreseen or even researched how this high-definition game operated, and every time he tried to calm himself with the defence that it had only been plugged in a week and he just hadn't had the time, he felt even sicker.

When Calhoun had stormed out of the game and demanded to know where the shuttle had gone, Surge had calmly told her it had flown about all crazy like and taken a turn into that sweet little game over there. His bland voice gave the impression he didn't think this whole incident was as terrible as she was making out, but really he was tingling all over and the raw scream stuck in his throat was choking him.

The Arcade was in critical danger, and not one of his alarms had been triggered. People could get hurt, and he didn't have any plans to execute. Everyone could die, and he didn't have any weapons to fire in defence.

By a miracle the situation had been resolved, but he hadn't played a part in it.

During the following two weeks he worked non-stop, motivated by a twisting fear and a gnawing guilt. He was ashamed that he hadn't been in a position to join the fight, and just as bitter that no-one had questioned his absence from it.

When he'd presented Calhoun with his proposal her face had lit up, and her erupting smile instantly dissolved all traces of wondering why he ever bothered with anything.

He'd altered the grid parameters of Game Central Station, had re-calibrated their structural integrity and ingeniously bolstered their defence capabilities.

In essence, he'd created remote prisons. Anyone or anything that entered Game Central Station could be isolated and trapped inside a force field. This was set to automatically imprison anything dangerous, but could also be manually overridden. Anything Surge considered hazardous that hadn't been identified could be trapped on his command.

Before Calhoun could reach Taffyta a thin transparent tube fell from the ceiling and ate into the floor surrounding her feet. It glistened and hardened and gave her standing room only.

The remote barrier enclosure was to be used in emergencies only and, well, if this wasn't an emergency he didn't know what was.

He wasted (probably not the right word to come to mind) a whole semi-quarter of a fraction of a second regretting the fact that he had imprisoned someone against their will, but it was done now. It _had_ to be done, he reasoned firmly with himself, as Taffyta screamed and her wire cage pulsed in warning and promise.

Calhoun smiled darkly, and Surge felt his fingers begin to tremble.

1.3 seconds left.

He had entertained the possibility of this whole dire situation occurring - had planned and sometimes _wanted_ it to take place - but never, in his heart of hearts, had he truly believed it ever actually _would_ happen.

He shook his head at the thought.

_Saving the Arcade single-handedly._

The notion was up there alongside getting married or starring in his own game. And yet it was happening. It was _actually_ happening. And now that it was he wished, with a keen and drawn out ache, that he didn't have to face it alone. But this was a pointless wish, for even if he had an army of friends and loved ones surrounding him, there wasn't any time to mobilise them. With just over one second to act, he had nothing to rely on but the half-baked fantasies that had been added to and improved over the years until they had become plans. Plans that had been carefully locked away, with their rusted key placed contentedly in sight and almost ready to hand.

Surge swallowed drily and, with the final second left on the stuttering clock, fought to save Vanellope's life.

He plunged a spike of electrons into where her heart would have rested, tore his gloves off and pressed his hands into the same area. Like he was about to perform CPR he depressed his arms and they sank, elbow deep, into her corrupted chest and ignited. A blue wave of electricity blossomed, sparked and consumed her in a wave of liquid fire.

The defibrillation crashed headlong into the darkness inside her, but didn't derail it.

Surge shocked her again, quicker and harder, and Vanellope's crude approximation of a body convulsed and arched like a bow.

He ignored a potential overload warning and shocked her for a third time.

Her fizzling blocks hissed and smoked but then began to settle. They still flashed in brilliant white and terminal black but with less urgency. A fresh page of numbers and graphs and projections flooded Surge's vision, except this time most of them were orange instead of red. Some of them had even turned green.

Confident he could do no more in the short term, Surge injected a stabilising chain of code throughout Vanellope to bolster the shaky reprieve he'd forced into her. It wasn't a cure or even a permanent solution, but it was the best he could do and had brought her some much needed time. Surge checked just how much time and then checked it for a second, third and fourth time.

Three minutes and forty seven seconds.

It would have to be enough.

With deliberate care Surge raised his arms and, with a crackle, removed them from Vanellope's chest. He winced, not just because he'd undertaken such a crude intrusion without her consent, but because of the pain in his hands. The forced transfer of voltage from his electrical field into her code stream had been sudden and unprimed. The healthy blue colour in his hands was draining away to be replaced with a sickly grey mottle, and black scorch marks criss-crossed his skin up to the elbow.

He grimaced and diverted a stream of back up energy to begin the healing process. His self-contained power source had been depleted, but wasn't yet near empty.

He flexed his fingers and tried to ignore the pain. He took a deep breath as if that one action could be his own stabiliser, and looked around.

Ralph had clenched his boulder sized hands into bleeding fists and was looking at Vanellope as if he could cry. Appreciated comfort had never been one of his many strong points, so Surge instead turned to observe Calhoun. She was standing in front of where Taffyta remained imprisoned, and the look on the Sergeant's face made it clear what she'd like to do to her.

As if in a dream, as his systems grudgingly aligned themselves after their sudden burst of activity, Surge slowly walked over to them both.

In the face of Calhoun's furious screaming Taffyta had closed her eyes and buried her hands deeply in her pockets. A small screen pulsed in Surge's vision, and he looked closer at her right pocket. It bulged and distended from where she'd thrust her previously raised object inside.

Another screen, wider and brighter, appeared on Surge's monitoring screen with a command prompt. He executed it, and the hidden object vanished from Taffyta's pocket and materialised in his outstretched hand.

He smiled weakly at the looks of shock on both Taffyta and Calhoun's faces. No point in trapping someone but allowing their dangerous object to remain with them, was there?

He collected himself, focused his watering eyes and inspected what Taffyta had tried so poorly to hidden.

It was a small tablet computer.

Surge felt his stomach clench and he looked sharply at Taffyta, who immediately responded by closing her eyes again. With trembling fingers and all physical pains receding into the background, Surge activated the computer and frowned. He entered into a conversation with it and gasped. Taffyta moaned, Calhoun demanded to know what the hell was going on, the conversation came to an abrupt end and Surge swore.

He swore loudly.

Ralph's eyebrows shot up and his mouth dropped. He looked sharply at Vanellope, as if he wanted to cover her ears with his hands.

Taffyta's eyes snapped open and regarded him with a toxic mixture of pride, regret, anticipation and fear, and it seemed that even Vanellope's flashing had slowed at the sound.

Although Calhoun's expression barely flickered at the obscenity, she felt a steady drip of fear begin to pool in her stomach. The Protector never swore, and for him to do so meant that things were going badly. It meant that their situation was progressing, with a solid and relentless momentum, from unpleasant annoyance to genuine disaster.

Surge looked at the tablet fiercely, closely, hoping that somehow the letters and symbols would apologise and rearrange themselves into something less horrific.

He swore again.

The two syllables slid coldly from his mouth, like a steel weight reluctantly being released in slow motion. The noise their impact made summed up his day so far, and did a depressingly excellent job of predicting what his immediate future held.

He read his conversation with the Arcade's Central Processing Unit again.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and, closing his eyes slowly and so tightly they bled stars, swore for a third time.

_cpu [online]

_srgprtctr [query] /location of birthday spectacular fun time thrill race engine/

_cpu [response] /backup outlet tango charlie four/

_srgprtctr [command] /access backup outlet tango charlie four/

_cpu [response] /accessed/

_srgprtctr [command] /deactivate engine/

_cpu [response] /negative/

_srgprtctr [command]* [repeat] /deactivate engine/

_cpu [response]*[repeat] /negative/

_srgprtctr [query] /clarify/

_cpu [response] /grid fluctuations spiking/energy waves unstable /engine termination prohibited

_srgprtctr [query] clarify/

_cpu [response] /denied/

_srgprtctr [query]*[repeat] /clarify/

_cpu [response]*[repeat] /denied/

_srgprtctr [query]*[repeat] /clari-/ **###CANCEL###**

_srgprtctr [execute] /override permission/password/echo delta seven two xray zero/

_cpu [response] /access granted/

**+O(Y*UFK.,.=KDI(!_FPKS_D)()+_+O)S_I+H!?**

***/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/**

_cpu [statement] /access denied/

_srgprtctr [execute] /emergency override protocol one/password/litwak/

_cpu [response] /access granted/

_srgprtctr [query] /source of fluctuations/

_cpu [response] /regen-

**+O(Y*UFK.,.=KDI(!_FPKS_D)()+_+O)S_I+H!?**

***/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/**

_cpu [statement] /access denied/

_srgprtctr [execute]/emergency override protocol two/password/aerith/

_cpu [response] /access granted/

_srgprtctr [query] /source of fluctuations/

_cpu [response] /regeneration cycle/

_srgprtctr [query] /elaborate/

_cpu [response] /regeneration cycle/

_srgprtctr [query] /whose regeneration cycle/

_cpu [response] /turbo/

_srgprtctr

_srgprtctr

_srgprtctr [query]*[repeat] /whose regeneration cycle/

_cpu [response] /tur-

**+O(Y*UFK.,.=KDI(!_FPKS_D)()+_+O)S_I+H!?**

***/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/**

_cpu [statement] /access denied/

_srgprtctr [execute]/**emergency override protocol stage three critical** /password/konami/

_cpu [response] /access granted/

_srgprtctr [query]*[repeat] /**whose regeneration cycle**/

_cpu [response] /turbo/

_srgprtctr [statement] /impossible/grid screening error present/

_cpu [response] /negative/grid screening error free/regeneration cycle activated/

_srgprtctr [query] /how/

_cpu [response] /tffytmttnfdge/

_srgprtctr

_srgprtctr [query] /regeneration timescale/

_cpu [response] /commencing/

_srgprtctr [query] /explain/

_cpu [response]*[repeat] /commencing/

_srgprtctr [query]*[repeat] /**explain**/

_cpu [response]*[repeat]* /**commencing**/

_srgprtctr [query]*[repeat]_** /EXPLAIN/**_

**+O(Y*UFK.,.=KDI(!_FPKS_D)()+_+O)S_I+H!?**

***/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/**

_cpu [terminal response before system failure]/turbo regeneration commencing/

**TURBO REGENERATION COMMENCING**

**REGENERATION COMMENCING**

**COMMENCING**

**COMMENCING **

**COMMENCING**

**COMMENCING**

**+O(Y*UFK.,.=KDI(!_FPKS_D)()+_+O)S_I+H!?**

***/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/**

_cpu [offline]

* * *

'Oh, _shit_.'


	4. Combustion

**AN: I'd finally proof read the next part of this story enough times to be reasonably happy with it, but when I checked the word count it ever so kindly suggested I think again about leaving it as one whole chapter. So I've broken it up, which means that chapter 5 will be up after this one pretty soon. As always I offer my thanks to anyone for choosing to spend their time reading this story, and for those of you who've followed or favourited or left a review for it or even done all three, I offer you my even greater thanks, I really do! It's very much appreciated indeed.**

* * *

**4. Combustion**

**SUGAR RUSH - 6 HOURS AGO**

'I'm not sure you really know what you're doing Vanellope.'

'I'm not sure you really know what you're doing _President _Vanellope. And you can think what you like Taffyta, but you can't _do_ what you like. Well not if it contradicts what your totally legal leader says, because if it _does_ then the ol' execution malarko will have to be raised again, and I _really_ don't want to do that since there's _so_ much paperwork involved you know? Comprende? Understand? Naaah, I'm just kiddin' with ya! Lighten up Taffy! It's not like I'm gonna put you in the _fungeon_ or anything!'

Taffyta forced a tight smile, as Vanellope slapped her on the back and skipped past her up the castle's grand staircase.

'Besides, I know _exactly _what I'm doing. Never fear Oh Loyal Voter of Sugar Rush, for your Just and Wise President will _so _have this race up and runnin' and you can say hello again to second place!'

Vanellope's voice was joyous and light, but underneath the jokes and self-confidence there was a wafer thin layer of steel to her words.

Taffyta thrust both hands deep into her pockets and wondered, yet again, if she could do this. She didn't doubt _why _she was doing this of course, since it was all justifiable and right and even _sensible. _Besides, she was _owed_ this and she _wanted_ it and she _deserved _it.

He'd made a good argument and an even better deal, and she had accepted it.

The serrated edges of the cube bit into her hand as she gripped it hard. To her mild surprise she didn't wince in pain or exclaim in distress as she felt a warm stickiness begin to flow over her fingers. Her hand began to pulse in rhythm to the block she was holding, and if she had the vocabulary she would have employed an army of words, and sweetly ordered them to confront and explain and defeat the sensation of wanting to entwine your life force with that designed to unravel it.

'It's gonna be _so _cool Taffy! When we race and cross the finish line and- …weeeeell I know I haven't asked you as such, but you would want to race beside me in the opening lap, right?' Vanellope beamed openly, but when no response was forthcoming she began to slow her pace.

'Right?'

Vanellope turned her head and began to frown. 'Taffyta?'

Taffyta ignored her leader and refused to make eye contact. As soon as her foot touched the step Vanellope was now standing still on, she suddenly overtook her. Taffyta abruptly accelerated by taking one and then two and then three stairs at a time, as she barrelled up the winding staircase and refused to draw a breath.

'Taffyta!' Vanellope's voice rang and echoed off the walls, and Taffyta felt her chest begin to constrict.

'Taffyta!'

Taffyta continued running, and gripped the cube tighter.

* * *

**GAME CENTRAL STATION - PRESENT TIME**

'You better speak fast and you better speak now,' Calhoun ordered roughly as she raised her ankle pistol and aimed it at Taffyta.

Surge heard the words clearly, but found it slow going to summon up the necessary energy to really care about them. Calhoun's concealed pistol had discreetly tripped one of his ancillary alarms the moment she'd stormed out of Sugar Rush, but he hadn't had time to disarm her. Maybe, he pondered to himself as he watched Taffyta cower, he hadn't really wanted to. Maybe, he considered as he pocketed the tablet computer and felt it drop like a weight, he was glad she carried a backup weapon. Maybe he could pretend she'd outsmarted his systems and he'd never even noticed her gun.

Maybe, and he wasn't really sure where this spiralled out from, he wanted her to harden her stance and pull the trigger. He wanted her to not even flinch as the bullet tore through the forcefield and pierced Taffyta's heart and embedded itself in the wall behind her and this situation could be forgotten and finished and things could get back to normal.

Surge inhaled sharply and staggered, as trails of his coding were frozen abruptly in their rotation. They were straightened with a snap and, as they were forcibly settled back into position, burnt lines of spiked ice throughout him in silent protest.

An alarm flashed at the periphery of his vision, and the cells of corrupted code were unceremoniously vented from his electrical field in a burst of steam. He felt them fizzle and ignite and was glad his immune system sub-routines were kept up to date, but, oh, even now, he could sense that there was something…missing.

It was missing; a microscopic part of him had been purged, and he wasn't sure it was a good thing.

He wasn't sure it was a _safe _thing, and he wanted it back.

Already, he wanted it back.

He shook his head and closed his eyes and wished hard for things he shouldn't need.

His grid alarm cut out, the twisted code chains began to duplicate replacements, and his anti-body macros were unleashed to brutally purge his system of all that shouldn't have been.

Surge allowed himself the indulgence of another breath to take stock of things - to create a tally - as his internal defence system restocked and rested and began to analysis why it had been called to arms.

He didn't want any of that to happen to Taffyta! Not really! Of course he didn't. Such a thought was horrific and terrible and in polar opposite to his programming, and yet he'd still thought it. It had been unbidden and unhindered, and it had injected him before he'd even known it had pierced the skin.

It must be tiredness, he began to justify to himself. Tiredness and pain and - well actually quite a lot of pain, come to think of it. His arms were still an unnatural and, now that he looked closely, quite unsightly concoction of light blue grey, and the forced ventilation of certain coding just now hadn't made his existing electrical burns any better. Those black criss-cross scorch marks were, he supposed, a fair price to pay for the DIY surgery he'd performed, but it was just typical that he'd had to suffer yet again for someone else. He was also running on his self-contained power supply, the level of which he should really check. However that involved a calculation that was presently being quarantined by, if his self-analysis was working correctly, quite vicious and swaggering little anti-bodies that were still prowling around his network.

He'd have to have a word with them later. Well have a word with himself later, he guessed, no reasoned, since they were part of him and he'd designed and installed them inside of himself. And let's not forget he already _was _inside of himself, given what Game Central Station really was.

Surge raised a hand to cover his forehead, and didn't realise you could get a headache this terrible without so much as looking at a root beer.

This was all too much and too soon, and that utterly useless and debilitating distress warning was still a dull ache permeating his very core and, while its presence meant Vanellope wasn't dead yet, it also meant she wasn't cured.

That thought shifted his attention back to the present, and convinced him to open his eyes. It also didn't help that his immune system was telling him off quite unashamedly; it was tidying up and packing for home and warning him not to make such a disgraceful mess again.

He watched Calhoun wrap both hands around the gun and harden her stance.

Of course he didn't want Taffyta shot. He didn't want any of what he'd just thought, not really. Scratch all of it; he'd never thought it and it would never happen.

He wouldn't _let _it happen.

Besides, he reasoned to himself as he manipulated the grid around Calhoun's feet, no bullet could ever penetrate a forcefield he'd designed.

Calhoun yelped in surprise as a stream of invisible particles tore up her leg and ate into the gun in her hand. Before she could finish swearing the gun had pixelated and dissolved, and she spun to face Surge with a twisted face.

'Give me back my gun!'

Surge ignored her and instead focused on Taffyta, who had begun to slowly lower her arms from her face. They regarded one another for a long second, and just when Surge was about to look away and tell Calhoun to please stop yelling because it wasn't helping in the slightest, he noticed that Taffyta's eyes had flicked upwards and then back to him.

It was only for the briefest of instances, but Surge immediately spun around and looked up to where her eyes had drawn an invisible path to.

The roof of Game Central Station was home to shadows and smoke, because the emergency lights could only penetrate so far, and the extractor fans were revolving on a reduced cycle now that the atmosphere had been cleared to safe levels.

He squinted and raised a hand to shield his eyes, but couldn't see anything besides the normal outlines of the light bulbs, the fans, the temperature monitoring boxes and the transmitter stations for the remote barrier enclosures. They were all shimmering grey shapes peeking out from the clouds, and all were their usual size and colour as far as he could tell, what with the bulbs glowing pearl and the monitoring boxes blinking red, and their numbers were correct and they didn't-

Oh, now that wasn't right.

That wasn't right at all.

He narrowed his eyes further and looked harder.

The temperature monitoring boxes shouldn't be blinking.

He'd never designed them to show any sort of colour, and he certainly wouldn't have made them twinkle cheerfully and contentedly in the face of impending annihilation. Why were they blinking such a happy red? Why were all of them alight at all?

Surge swallowed tightly and, with a horrible swell of anticipation, activated his infrared diagnostic programme.

He rotated in a complete circle, his feet shuffling and eyes unblinking, and scanned every inch of the ceiling and wall joints. Years ago he'd duplicated and then modified an infrared scanner design he'd read about on an internet site, to allow him to identify any abnormal surges of heat throughout the Arcade. In conjunction with the scanner programme he'd written for himself, he'd also designed temperature monitoring boxes and installed them throughout Game Central Station. Remote versions of them were also embedded in each game, and barely an inch of space throughout the entire Arcade wasn't monitored at all times.

If any part of the Station or an individual game suffered from heat loss or heat gain, he'd be alerted and could then undertake a thorough scan of all electrical and mechanical systems affected. If the temperature was too high, he could activate the cooling pumps and vent the excess heat. Likewise if the temperate was too low, he could fire up one of the steam tanks and raise it by desired degrees. The infrared scanner allowed him to identify any potential cause of the temperature fluctuation, and gave him more detailed information with which to conduct a thorough analysis with.

By employing both of these surveying tools he could take any necessary action to resolve the problem, before concentrating on the more important task of determining who was to blame for giving him all of the extra work to do.

Surge scanned the monitoring boxes closely, and took his time, for there were a lot of boxes and a lot of possibilities riding on them.

There were a lot of ruby red eyes watching him and blinking out of synch.

The heat waves radiating from an object would be translated into a digital image on his viewing screen, with the hotter something being the whiter it would appear. Likewise the colder an object was, the blacker it would appear.

The results of the scan began to materialise on his viewing screen, as first one and then two and then several dots of white popped up sharply. They began to duplicate rapidly, and before Surge knew it they were erupting across his screen in an overlapping trail of white explosions like a blizzard.

Surge switched vision layers sharply, and looked around Game Central Station quickly. In contrast to the forest of white fires on his thermal readout, the reality of what he saw was smoky grey fog sporadically illuminated by pulsing red eyes.

Surge hadn't known a headache and a churning stomach to multiply in intensity at the same time but, he admitted readily, there were many things in general he didn't know.

There were many things he didn't _want _to know.

The thermal readout pulsed, as the white dots disappeared to be replaced with a bright yellow background. Black numbers and graphs scrolled from left to right along it, and Surge interpreted the statistics and calculated their projected conclusions. The background of the readout turned into a brighter yellow hue as the stream of statistics increased in speed, and Surge felt his headache triple in strength.

He shut down the diagnostic programme and reached under his glasses to rub his eyes, as he tried to put off thinking about what he'd learnt for one second. Just for one second of blissful ignorance, where he didn't have to think or plan or explain or-

'You better stop thinking and start explaining, or I might pull out another gun and aim it somewhere else this time.'

Surge groaned, not just because of the interruption but due to the pointlessness of Calhoun's threat.

First of all she didn't have any more weapons and, secondly, he couldn't be hurt by a bullet anyway, since he could simply deactivate his physical form and convert himself into nothing more than a wave of electricity. Well actually it wouldn't be quite that simple right about now, since it required quite a lot of energy to condense himself into a stream of particles, and he didn't have the main generator to power this transformation. He was still running on back-up power, and still hadn't summoned up the nerve to check what those levels were.

And he'd also been of the opinion that it was far more polite to interact with people in a physical form. He could speak to them out of it if he wanted to, but being addressed by a stream of blue lightning either startled or confused or simply annoyed people.

Once, many years ago, he'd even been laughed at when he'd conducted a monitoring survey in electrical form. But that had been a laugh of joy, and that person didn't count. Not any more. Except if it was true that-

'I'm beginning to run out of patience with you, Surge _Protector_,' Calhoun warned sternly, as she strode right up to Surge and glowered down at him. 'I want to know everything that's going on around here, and I want to know _now_.'

Surge looked up at her and felt an unpleasant buzz of irritation cascade down his spine. It crawled into his stomach, and began to branch down into his legs and out along his scarred arms at the same time as Calhoun poked him.

Oh, _what_? She could not have just _poked _him.

But she had.

And she did so again.

With sheer incredulity Surge watched her stab a finger into his chest for a third time. This was unbelievable.

_Utterly unbelievable_.

He knew that Calhoun was trigger happy and would hit someone hard enough to break their nose if they so much as looked at her the wrong way, but she'd never hit him before. She'd never so much as _touched_ him, now that he thought about it. Well actually no that wasn't true - she'd smacked him in the stomach with her helmet just recently. That had happened, what, a minute or two or so ago? Even sooner? Yes, probably sooner. Surge couldn't be sure, as his internal chronometer had been shaken and wasn't getting the attention it deserved. It may have been many seconds ago ago, but it felt like many hours.

And that helmet attack of hers had been instinctive and at a distance and powered by guilt, and he could understand it. But this - this childish _poking _- was planned and deliberate, and while it was no doubt powered by a whole range of emotions, it felt far more intimate and its impact penetrated far more deeply.

An angry poke to the chest wasn't about to put him in the hospital, but it still hurt. With a horrible wrench, he realised that he'd believed himself so elevated in Calhoun's estimation he'd thought he was above being hurt like this.

He'd thought he was someone she actually and genuinely respected.

But of course he wasn't, he concluded with more regret than he'd been prepared for. Maybe one day he'd learn this. Maybe _one_ day he'd learn that he'd _never _be that high in someone's consideration.

Calhoun then took hold of his tie - actually _gripped _it around her fist - and pulled him in even closer. Her eyes blazed, and Surge could see a roiling concoction of rage, concern and a growing fatigue in them. Her pupils constricted to black pin points of fury as she lowered her voice to a growl.

'I want to know exactly what's going on, you understand? I want to know what Taffyta is doing and why you eyed up the ceiling the way you did. But, most of all, I want to know what's on that computer you just had a nice cosy little chat with.'

_Cosy little chat with?_

Oh for the love of-

To his surprise Surge felt a tingle of heat begin to spread over his skin, and instead of looking down or away he met Calhoun's death stare head on. She was speaking as if this was all his fault, and that he was deliberately finding things out and keeping them from her! Maybe if someone - _anyone _- would give him two lousy seconds to collect his thoughts and calm down, he'd be able to explain something. But oh no, he was supposed to tell them everything straight away. Yes he could move nearly as fast as the speed of light, but that didn't mean he always _had _to. Not that anyone ever thought of this possibility of course. Or if they did, they certainly hadn't thought it applicable to him. And when exactly was he supposed to share the results of one revelation when the beginnings of another one seemed to happen immediately afterwards? When? When would this whole rollercoaster of a mess of a situation slow down and pass through their designated tunnels at their correct speeds? When?

Surge felt a tight sphere of anger, fear and unaccustomed exhaustion swell inside of him, and he matched Calhoun's glare with one of his own.

'And I think I'm beginning to run out of patience with you too, _Sargent_ Calhoun.'

Calhoun's eyes widened slightly in surprise, and Surge felt her grip loosen momentarily. He took immediate advantage of this by reaching up to grab her arm, yank it up and outwards and release her grip on his tie. He managed to take one step backwards before the world tilted and his vision spun like crazy and then _SMACK_.

Surge felt his head explode in pain and tried to speak, but a crushing weight pressing into his chest and the sudden disorientation made this currently impossible.

He tried again, harder this time, but to no avail. He then paused and steadied and briefly submitted to the situation, whatever it may be, and concentrated. The microscopic rotors of his self-contained power supply whined into action, and a gush of power steadied his vision and levelled out his senses.

He was on his back.

He was flat out on his back on the floor, and seeing as it was Calhoun's boot pressing firmly into his chest, it was a fair bet to make that she was the one who had put him there.

Surge felt that balloon of anger and dread inflate again, except this time it inflated quickly and he felt it expand to fill his every limb. Calhoun looked daggers at him and opened her mouth - no doubt to yell and accuse him of things again - and all of a sudden Surge realised he didn't care.

He should care more than ever, of course he should, but it suddenly seemed as if everything had condensed and sunk and he was removed from it all.

He was sick of it. He was sick of every_thing _and every_one _at this precise moment in time, and since no-one cared how he was coping with it all, why should he care how anyone else was? That earlier idea of spending some time in the hidden back-up outlet grinned again and beckoned in victory.

If Calhoun was so worried and interested, why not let her find out about it all.

Why not let her _deal_ with it all.

He reached into his pocket and, without taking his eyes off of Calhoun, pulled the tablet computer out and flung it across the floor.

'All yours,' he spat.

Calhoun looked down at him with a sharp stab of disgust, and he matched it with a glare of defiance and gnawing compunction, as he began to divert wire thin tendrils of energy to heat up every atom that formed his existence.

They would vibrate and increase in strength and frequency in less than a fraction of a second, and after the energy stored in his capacitors contracted, they would aim towards the destination he was focusing on and would then explode; they'd burst and propel him to anywhere in the Arcade he wished to be. It would cost him an untold amount of essential back-up power, but so be it.

He drew mental lines onto the layered map of connections and filaments that comprised the Arcade's grid, and knew he could escape from here. He could navigate away from all of it, just for a while, and sit and think and plan.

Calhoun and Ralph had more experience than him with this sort of thing anyway, since they'd faced the Sugar Rush incident without him and emerged victorious without him.

They didn't need him.

In fact, they'd be better off without him.

Yes, much better.

Calhoun could talk to Taffyta and Ralph could look after Vanellope and they could both read and he wasn't leaving them, not really.

Not for good.

Not for ever.

At some point, he reasoned generously, he'd be back.

Yes, back.

At some point.

…at some point possibly he'd possibly be back…

Surge felt his atoms reach breaking point and, at the same time as he bit back an apology and was flooded with bitter regret, he executed the command to unleash them.


	5. Revelation

Surge felt his atoms explode as planned but, to his horror, they instantly rebounded.

It was like they'd run full tilt into a brick wall and, without losing an ounce of velocity, bounced off it and smashed straight back into him. Surge gasped in pain and disbelief, as the wave of energy took the only path available to it and crashed and overlapped and tore straight through him and around him and inside of him.

_What? How? What?!_

His earlier headache seemed like a pleasant treat compared to this pain. The particles of his matter had been primed and set free but had nowhere to go; the energy that would have driven his consciousness to another destination had been blocked from doing so, and it was now crashing around the only space available to it.

But even if his teleportation had somehow malfunctioned, the compressed energy should immediately be diverted back into the Arcade's grid! That was how he'd designed the failsafe programme to work, should he ever not be able to convert out of his physical appearance. This sparking blue energy shouldn't be ricocheting around him with nowhere to go! It should have been diverted and been pouring back into the grid, and the only reason it wouldn't have is if it _couldn't_, but that wasn't possible because-

Surge gasped again but this time in pure disbelief. For one blank moment the realisation that it _was _possible overrode all of his pains and plans and calculations and regrets. It was almost wonderful, but this lasted for only a second, before it teetered and fell and crashed and he was back in the world of pain and plans and calculations and regrets. But in that moment he had identified why he couldn't move, and why there wasn't a thing he could do about it.

He gaped at Calhoun in horrified admiration, and she acknowledged the recognition of her action by grinning and pressing her boot down harder.

She'd insulated him.

She'd insulated him and trapped him and prevented him from going anywhere.

It must have been a compacted piece of plastic or something, Surge thought quickly, as he ran through the possibilities of how this had happened and just how he was going to get out of it since- no, wait, it wasn't a plastic sheet she'd somehow managed to spread onto the floor. He sent out another low frequency pulse to confirm the material and, yes, his revision was correct: it was ceramic.

He was lying on an interlocking blanket of ceramic tiles. These must have been stacked in small connected squares originally, but had then snapped into formation and spread into place when Calhoun had released them. It was the only thing that made sense when he thought about how she'd been able to bring them along with her in the first place; a pile of pottery squares wouldn't have set off any alarms, and a protruding stack of small squares wouldn't look out of place on her uniform. Maybe one of her soldiers or an experienced player would have noticed something different about her appearance, but he hadn't. And that's what she'd counted on.

It was one of many things she'd counted on, and one of many things she'd prepared for.

Even though he already knew it wouldn't work, he stretched his arms to their maximum width. He looked along the length of his left arm, and saw that the very tip of his outstretched finger was a good inch away from the edge of a tile. The same went for the area below his legs and above his head. Calhoun had calculated the tiles' surface area perfectly, and there was no way he could make contact with the floor.

There was no way he could connect to the Arcade's grid, and therefore no way to convert into electricity and vanish from this very spot.

How was he going to get away? How? The ceiling? That was connected to the grid and-

_No of course not the ceiling you moron. Even if you could get free from Calhoun's boot - which you can't - how could you ever reach the ceiling? A magic ladder? Stop looking at it and stop wasting time._

So how?

He looked back at Calhoun, whose grin had been replaced with her earlier scowl. She bent down, and the extra weight was transferred into the foot she was holding him down with.

'Tell me what was on Taffyta's computer.'

Oh now this wasn't fair; of course he was planning on telling her, but not like this! It would have been when he'd actually processed the information and come to terms with it and begun to form a plan to deal with it. He wasn't one of Calhoun's soldiers that she could boss about; he'd been here for decades and she'd only existed for weeks, and he wasn't going to put up with this.

If she wasn't going to release him willingly, he'd just have to _make _her release him.

It was false imprisonment, Surge justified to himself as he reached up and gripped her lower leg with both hands. And it's not like he was going to _hurt _her or anything, he reasoned as he called up more reserve power and channelled it into his hands. He was just going to give her a brief, slightly uncomfortable, definitely non-fatal shock so that he could escape from her. It was self-defence, nothing more.

If he'd had his gloves on it wouldn't work, because they prevented the transfer of electricity from him into any character he touched. But he'd had to remove them to touch Vanellope, and they were still discarded on the floor. Maybe if he'd had to take them off in front of Calhoun she would have suspected his intentions, but he didn't have to worry about that.

His bare hands were unguarded gates, and unstable strands of electricity fizzed at their tips.

Surge focused his grip on Calhoun's leg, released a stream of energy and, once again, bit back an apology as he did so.

And, once again, his mind went momentarily blank as a wave of pain overcame it. It was marginally less worse than last time, but it still made his teeth rattle.

The two rivers of particles released from his hands had been denied entry to Calhoun, and they exploded and rebounded back into him. They blazed up his arms and left a trail of what felt like crushed glass in their wake.

Calhoun grimaced but held her stance.

Surge also grimaced and gripped Calhoun's boot tighter. After he'd finished his analysis of the material, he'd found that his exasperation towards her had doubled and his admiration for her had tripled.

Calhoun had obviously anticipated him trying something like this, because her boot had been padded out and modified. She'd added extra layers of a material resembling neoprene to her armour, which was another excellent insulator of electricity.

'You can quit that right now Sparky, 'cause you're not going anywhere just yet.'

With a growing sense of panic Surge released another stream of particles, despite knowing that it would only reward him with another backlash of pain.

Calhoun ground her teeth, as a faint yet noticeable vibration ran up her boot. 'What was on the computer?' She repeated harshly.

In something approaching desperation Surge tried yet again to shock her, but the rubber polymers in her suit formed a near impenetrable shield. They were absorbing and blocking every spark he threw at them and, according to a small hexagon that had appeared in his monitoring screen, were draining his self-contained power supply at a disturbingly steady rate.

_**!_48% internal power supply remaining!**_

With a jolt of fear he registered that half of his power supply had already been used up. He hadn't wanted to know this, but the figure had flashed up automatically. It was sharp and scary and he felt a clench of nausea at seeing the dark orange figure. But oddly enough he also felt a bit better for it. He had more information now, and with it more options.

He now had more chances of planning a correct course of action, and found that the single digits of one were already beginning to gather and align.

Maybe, he belatedly began to realise, that's what Calhoun wanted. All she wanted was some information about the situation they'd all found themselves in; she wanted _any _information about _any _aspect of it, so she could be released from the dark. And that was understandable. That was _sensible _and _right_, and he'd denied her it.

Calhoun wasn't scared to face something no matter how horrific it may seem, but what she didn't want was to confront it blindly. She didn't want to do battle with something without even a glimmer of hope that it could be defeated. Surge hadn't meant to deny her like this, of course he hadn't; it was just that everything had happened all at once and he couldn't help being irritable with all the pain and pressure he was under and-

_Enough. That's enough excuses now, so stop. Just stop. There are people in this Arcade that have been through much more suffering for far longer than you have, so just remember that. Remember what your job is - remember what your __**purpose**__ is - and start doing it._

Surge felt himself deflate and released his hands from Calhoun's leg. He felt sick with guilt, and opened his mouth to explain that-

'Turbo?! _Turbo's _coming back?! No way! No _way_! That's just not possible! _Surely_ that's not possible? No! Just, _NO_.'

With a start Surge and Calhoun heard Ralph bellow next to them, and saw the Wrecker hold the tablet computer in one hand and point ominously towards Taffyta with the other.

'_She _brought him back? She brought _Turbo _back? No _way_! This thing's lying, it's got to be! Turbo's dead! Everyone saw him fly into the cola beacon and _burn_. So why,' Ralph accused, as he moved his pointed finger from Taffyta to Surge, 'does your computer say he's back? Huh? Answer me!'

And with a crash Ralph lifted up a foot and smashed it back onto the floor. Surge and Calhoun and a shower of glass shards momentarily lifted into the air as a result of the impact, and Surge fought the impulse to close his eyes and try to escape again.

Oh he didn't want to talk about Turbo, he really really didn't; he didn't even want to mention his _name_ out loud. But it was out there now and it would be pointless to deny it.

He swallowed hard, and his eyes flicked between Ralph and Calhoun. 'Just now I scanned the ceiling because the temperature control boxes were wrong. They were…alight. They were alight and blinking, and I'd never designed them that way. They're functioning perfectly, but they're _wrong_.'

'And just what exactly is wrong with them then?' Calhoun demanded. Her boot wasn't pressing down any harder, and Surge guessed that this was because she was finally getting some answers, despite how unpleasant and incomplete they may be.

'They've been hijacked,' Surge answered bluntly. 'A layer of transparent wafers have been grafted onto them. They act like a mirror, and can reflect and relay and aim a signal back somewhere. The red eyes are receptors, and they've just been given a command.'

Calhoun and Ralph glanced quickly at Taffyta before looking back at him. Calhoun's brow creased, and Ralph gripped the tablet hard enough to crack its screen.

'Oh please don't break that, it's-' Surge began, but Ralph interrupted him with a roar.

'I don't care! I'll smash it to pieces right now and _not care_! The only thing I care about it her!' Ralph's pointed finger found its third target, and Surge locked onto it and felt a spasm shudder through him.

One sharp glance at the pile of pulsing black and white blocks that formed Vanellope was all it took to remind him of why he was doing all of this. Of why he was doing _any _of this.

With a punch of guilt he checked the countdown clock he'd set for her, and wasn't sure whether to worry or rejoice at the amount of time that had passed since he'd set it.

Three minutes and forty oneseconds left.

Before he could respond to Ralph, Calhoun had increased her boot's pressure again and issued another demand. 'What does this have to do with Turbo? Wreck It is right - that grey troll should be dead, so why am I now hearing scare stories about him coming back to life?'

'I don't know! I mean in theory it's possible, but-' Surge began, but then hissed as Calhoun twisted the point of her boot into him.

'It's _possible_?' she echoed. 'How?' Her eyes jerked upwards and darted around the Station's ceiling, as she registered as many of the blinking eyes as possible. 'Is it them? Have these boxes brought him back?'

Surge had gripped Calhoun's leg again, not to attempt an escape this time, but to try and relieve some of the pressure on his chest.

'If you could just lift your boot up, I-'

'Answer me!'

Calhoun sharpened the angle of her foot and twisted deeper, and Surge snapped at the pain and unfairness and utter discomfort of the question he knew he couldn't avoid any longer. 'Yes it's possible! If Turbo did what I think, if he…oh sweet programmers what he _must_ have done - then yes, in theory, it's…it's possible.' Surge looked at Calhoun in a fast approaching state of distress. 'In theory it's very possible he could be back.'

Ralph bellowed something, but Surge only concentrated on the clearly enunciated words Calhoun was spitting at him.

'Tell. Us. _How_.'

Surge closed his eyes as the answer came to him. 'I can't.'

Calhoun growled and formed a fist with one hand. 'Can't or won't?'

Surge remained silent, so Calhoun ploughed on. 'I think you know _exactly _how he could be back, but you don't _want _to tell us. And _why_ would you not want to tell us? It's because you helped him!'

Surge's eyes flew open at those words, but Calhoun was merciless in her tirade. 'Yes, you helped that sick racer friend of yours, and you just don't want to admit it. Which is understandable, given that no sane person wants to admit to being friends with a failed child murderer!'

'No!'

'No what?'

'No he's not my friend! Well not any more; in fact no, not ever, he- argh just stop pressing so hard!'

'_How is it possible_?'

Ralph took another lunge forwards, his foot mere centimetres away from Surge's head, and glowered down at him. 'Oh you better not have helped him or so help me I'll-'

'I didn't help him!' Surge shouted desperately, as Ralph crushed the tablet computer and formed a huge fist with his other hand.

Metallic shards fell into Surge's face, and he closed his eyes again as his thoughts and theories poured out. 'The wafers on the monitoring boxes must have absorbed…they must have sucked them up and then relayed them; they must have sent them to Vanellope's race engine in the backup outlet! But, oh, for the engine to be activated in the first place he must have used the code again, which would mean-'

'What code?'

'The _konami _code?!'

Calhoun's demand had mixed into Ralph's outraged roar, and Surge groaned at his slip up. Oh they really didn't need to know about the code right now… but evidently they did, because Calhoun had twisted her boot yet _again _into him, and Ralph had loudly repeated himself.

'The konami code? Seriously? Oh man, I knew you were a jerk but I didn't know you were _stupid!_ How could-'

'What's the k-' Calhoun interrupted, before a light blossomed in her widening eyes. 'Oh don't tell me that's the code Sour Bill was talking about when we questioned him? Don't you _dare_ tell me you're talking about the code that Turbo used to try and _kill_ a nine year old _girl_ with?'

Surge closed his eyes tighter and felt sick to his stomach. 'I didn't give it to him! I _swear!'_

Calhoun tilted her head in question. 'Who said anything about giving it to him?'

Surge groaned again and Calhoun twisted again, as she continued with her interrogation. 'But this is the code we're talking about, right?'

Surge nodded sharply, reluctantly, and wondered desperately if he actually physically _could_ be sick because, if he _could,_ then it was about to happen soon.

'What the hell are you talking about? What's been sucked up and put back into the engine? Turbo? Bits of _Turbo_ have?' Calhoun exclaimed in disgust and bewilderment. Surge could have sworn this outburst was layered with curiosity, but before he had time to deconstruct her voice waves further she'd continued. 'Answer me!'

Surge grimaced. 'Turbo could have – and this is just a theory remember! – _have…spread_ bits of his original code throughout the arcade. Sort _of…hidden_ them, underneath layers of other code, or disguised them or something. They would have stayed dormant, and invisible, until he activated them. He…would have needed them all to come together again to create himself, but to do that he'd need a powerful supply of energy. Like an engine.'

Calhoun looked as close to horrified as Surge had ever seen her, and for the Sergeant to look horrified about anything was saying something.

'You mean,' Calhoun tried to explain, 'that _Turbo…copied_ himself, and then divided himself, and then parcelled out the pieces to various games or places in the Arcade to hide them?'

Surge nodded.

'He created a back-up copy of his original, pre-Road Blasters murdering self?'

Surge nodded again.

'And you _let_ him?'

Surge let out a sound that almost sounded like a hiss. 'No I did not let him! Oh I am so _sick_ of all of you thinking I just _allowed_ Turbo to get away with things! As if he told me all the terrible things he planned to do, and I just _smiled_ and tipped my hat to him and wished him the best of luck! Can you understand why I've already had enough of this when it's only just begun?'

'Stop whining like a kicked puppy and tell me how this happened!'

Surge sighed harshly. 'How many times do I have to tell you that this may _not_ have happened? It's just a theory!'

'Well it's the only theory we've got, so get on with it!'

'It…' Surge sighed again, as the anger and irritation began to leak away from him. What replaced them were blocks of apprehension and guilt, which weren't much better at all. They were small blocks, but they were solid and stacking quickly. A few unwanted triangles also slipped silently into the building of this wall, and distorted its uniform shape. These three sided oddities represented curiosity, hope and anticipation, and Surge wished with his entire existence that they weren't there. But they were, and their points dug into him painfully.

Surge tried again. 'I don't know how Turbo organised it all, but I'm guessing it has something to do with Miss Taffyta over there. She must have known that Vanellope moved the race engine outside of Sugar Rush – and before you blame me yet _again,_ I _know_ that's something else I missed! Good grief I'm not perfect you know, and believe it or not I can't predict everything, especially not what goes on in some people's heads, and I'm beating myself up pretty badly for it as we speak, since for Vanellope to have tricked me with the hologram and the engine she-' Surge broke off, aware he was going off on a tangent. He didn't want to get yelled at by Calhoun again, so he got back on track.

'Turbo must have had help in setting up the engine and modifying the temperature control boxes. Someone must have flicked the switch to start his regeneration, and put into motion the plan he'd already set up. Who this person is – or maybe people are – I'm not sure. Except for Taffyta, I'm not certain. And _why_ they want to help Turbo, well…I haven't even begun to touch on that one yet.'

Surge took a deep breath in and out, and felt Calhoun's boot on his chest rise and fall as he did so. Calhoun's face had morphed from irritation and impatience into…well into puzzlement. She was trying to work something out, and Surge had the horrible feeling she wasn't done with him yet.

'So,' Calhoun started slowly, 'your game jumping little racer friend somehow bypassed all your alarms – all your security and monitoring checks – to spread his code throughout the Arcade you're designed to protect. Now before you wet yourself again, I'm not blaming you. Well not fully. But what we do need to know is how. _How_ did Turbo copy himself in the first place? He did this before he lived up to his name and went Turbo, so you must have been around when he did it. _How_ did he know to make such a back-up plan in the first place? You said you didn't help him, so how did he do it? How did get the _knowledge_ to do it?'

Surge swallowed dryly, and something sharp stuck in his throat as he did so. 'I…' he began. He tried to swallow again, but this time couldn't complete the action.

Calhoun lowered her voice into something soft, gentle and reassuring. Like a predator does when trying to convince its prey it means them no harm.

'The truth Surge. Just tell me the truth, and we can work this out. We can work together, and fix all this.'

Surge remained silent, hardly daring to breathe, and Calhoun lowered her voice even further. Surge had to strain to hear the words. 'How did Turbo copy and hide his code? Please tell me – we need to know Surge. _Help_ us. Help _Vanellope._ Did Turbo do it by using this konami code?'

Surge nodded, and shards of what felt like iron pierced his head and splintered inside of it.

Calhoun breathed in and froze, as if worried she'd lose all she'd just gained. 'How did Turbo get the code Surge? If you didn't give it to him, how did he get it?'

'He…must have seen it.'

'…how?'

'I was careless. I…he must have taken it from me when my back was turned. Copied it, or memorised it, or…'

'…taken it from you? Why would you have it in the first place?' Calhoun's voice began to rise again. 'How do you know so much about this code at _all?'_

Surge met her enquiring look full on, and the heavy wave of anguish and regret that had been held back by decades of defiance and self-delusion poured out of him. It crashed down like a waterfall, and the explosion of memory and actions and possibilities left him feeling exhausted and empty and utterly spent.

And alone.

More than ever before, he felt achingly alone.

'I didn't _give_ Turbo the konami code Tamora,' Surge repeated quietly. 'He was never meant to see it; no-one was. And I know about it because…' His voice fractured into thick layers, and his eyes shone like stars being devoured by monsters.

'…I know about it because I _created_ it.'


	6. Restoration

AN: This chapter ended up a _lot_ longer than I'd planned (I seem to say this quite often!), and I guess I'm still not completely confident with it, especially compared to earlier ones. I thought after the end of the previous chapter everything needed to go down a gear and stay that way for a bit before gradually moving back up, and so I adjusted (well tried to adjust) the tone and structure of this chapter to reflect that. But I don't know if I've completely succeeded in doing so…If I _have_ miscalculated and managed to mess things up (with the pacing and everyone's character in general) let's just think of this as the glitch chapter or something, and politely nod at it and then ignore it until future chapters appear, which will deal with the regular business of technical explanations and actual plot progression.

But that's quite enough of my rambling self-doubts for now – instead please accept my thanks for continuing to read this and, for those who have reviewed so far, please have my extra special thanks for doing so – it makes my day to read your thoughts on this story! :)

* * *

**6. Restoration**

If there was an option for a player to press a pause button on the arcade games, especially on the older ones with less powerful graphics, Surge reckoned the characters would feel a similar experience to what he was experiencing right about now.

Himself, Ralph and Calhoun had frozen, as they all began to process the reluctantly released words he'd just spoken. But not everything was static, and not everyone was completely immobile. Dust mites still floated in the air, and Ralph still took slow breaths as if fearful he'd be asked to pay for more. The extractor fans still rotated almost out of sight, and Calhoun's pupils still expanded and then contracted. Taffyta's cage still pulsed, and Vanellope's blocks still flashed.

Everything had a slightly fuzzy definition to it, and when the button was pressed again and the game resumed, the first move would be made by someone with a slight advantage. The others would then have to think fast, and adjust quickly to catch up on the split second of ground they'd lost.

The seconds stretched on, long and solitary and filled with echoes.

Calhoun had been the first person in the world Surge had told the konami truth to, and it was her he was looking at when the world slowed and balanced and wobbled on its pole.

The expression painted on her face was puzzled scepticism with a mild undercoat of concern. As if she believed what their Surge Protector had just told them but not really, because it was such a large and abstract concept to get her head around so suddenly, and it was difficult to relate personally to it. But the emotions that had burst out of his face were hard to doubt, and even if he had faked or exaggerated those expressions, the question you have to then ask is why? Why would he bother? But given the amount of physical and mental pressure he'd been under when he'd admitted what he had, it's doubtful he'd have thought it was a good time to lie. It's doubtful he would have been _able _to lie, given the state he was in. So he must be telling the truth.

Or at least part of it, since…no. No he _was _telling the truth; it was still clear in his face and there was nothing suspicious in the air to invisibly alert any instincts. And it all made a kind of disturbing yet sensible truth. So he _had _created the konami code, and Turbo had then obtained it and used it blaze a trail of destruction and set a path to resurrection, and what on earth were they going to do about things now? What was _she_ going to do about things now? What did it all mean? Well what she did know was that they couldn't all stay suspended like this forever…

Surge watched this internal reasoning play out in Calhoun's eyes and posture. She was trained to calculate a huge number of possibilities under the most difficult of circumstances, and her instincts were almost as powerful as his computing systems, so he knew she would hit on the right conclusion sooner rather than later.

The silence continued to stretch on. It was long and tight, and spread far too thin to exist for much longer before it tore. In it Surge could hear the faint rotation of the extractor fans. They slowly churned the debris studded air, and sounded older and rustier than he'd imagined they would. The support struts surrounding the shattered windows were creaking under the strain of their recent explosions, and he could hear the electronic thrum of the arcade's grid. It whined and strained and crackled at nearly full volume, and he knew no-one else had the auditory coding to hear it the way he could. None of these were not particularly pleasant sounds, but they were far preferable to listening to the thoughts pounding in his head.

After what seemed like both a lifetime and no time at all, the pause button was finally depressed again to reverse its original intention.

Calhoun made the first move and claimed the slight advantage. She lifted her boot slowly off of Surge's chest, placed it carefully on the ground, and took half a step back from him. A spark of doubt and warning flared in her eyes, but Surge made no move to roll off the ceramic tile blanket and plunge straight back into the grid.

He didn't move at all, and was quite content to lay prone on the ground until the world ended.

'Get up,' Calhoun ordered gruffly. 'If someone makes a mess, they clean it up. You may not have made _all_ this mess, but you still have a responsibility for some of it. So get up.'

Surge felt his eyes drift upwards to look at the great arching ceiling. It was smeared with dirt, and a gnarled branch of black stress lines were threatening to migrate from the top of the wall to eat into it. Maybe they would spread, and the whole ceiling would collapse, piece by huge shattering piece. Maybe everything in the Arcade would collapse.

Maybe it all should.

…maybe it already had.

With a lead weight holding him in place and a head full of static, Surge began to close his eyes in capitulation.

But just before he was about to finish the action – before he could complete his forfeit of the game – he felt Calhoun kick the sole of his foot. He felt so exhausted he couldn't even frown at her in irritation. If she wanted to attack him again, then so be it. He probably deserved it anyway.

Calhoun kicked his sole again, this time harder, and Surge felt his eyes slowly open back up. This was of their own accord but against his wishes, and he felt like there were grains of sand and glass coating his eyelids. The action was dragged out, and the wider he opened his eyes, the more the grit scratched them.

'Get up. This situation needs to be resolved, and we can't do it without you. We _won't_ do it without you.'

Surge's eyes opened fully and, with what took a huge amount of effort, he looked at Calhoun. He opened his mouth, and the word sounded like the crunch of dead leaves.

'…what?'

'You're not quitting on us now. You _know_ what happens to people that quit on me, and I don't think you'd like any of that.'

It was widely known that Calhoun couldn't stand it when a player simply quit her game half-way through play. Even if it was certain that the player was about to lose, she would silently will them to keep playing - would _urge_ them with a penetrating look to continue fighting, even if they would be defeated, because then at least they'd die with honour. They'd die like a Hero should, and would be worthy of the game they played.

But when a player simply sighed - or shrugged or swore or screamed - and returned the gun to the console's holder in the middle of action, it drove Calhoun mad. Her men weren't quite as vocal as her after the game had ended, but they would all join in the badmouthing of the player and rip their game playing to shreds, regardless of how perfect it had been until they'd quit. These players' names (or descriptions if they couldn't find a name out) were written on empty food cartons and used as dartboards in the mess room. When they'd been riddled with enough holes they were thrown down a hole for the Cy-bugs to eat.

Markowski hadn't quite suffered the same fate when he'd left Hero's Duty just before the Arcade had opened. After the Sugar Rush incident Calhoun had had strong words with him along the lines of deserting his post and allowing Ralph to take his place. This, besides being an unforgivable breach of security and programming considerations, had made her look like a complete fool in front of everyone.

Markowski had managed to convince Calhoun that he hadn't really quit the game, and that he was still a committed soldier, and that he certainly hadn't gone _Turbo_ since no-one had even heard the word before, and blamed it on a faulty line of code or something. Calhoun had dragged him into Surge's office and demanded her 'soldier' undergo a full coding diagnostic to check for any viruses or rouge pieces of code. Surge had conducted a full examination right there and then, and found Markowski's code to be in perfect order. But before he could explain to Calhoun that programmed code didn't mean as much as she thought it did, she had dragged Markowski back out again and told him to cancel any evening engagements he might have planned for the next twelve months, because he had a lot of work to do.

Surge also never got the chance to explain to Calhoun that he already checked every character's code on a daily basis. He would cross-reference their current code streams with the master copy he'd already taken, and if there ever _was_ a fault in someone's code, he would take immediate action to rectify it. He certainly wouldn't just twiddle his thumbs and do nothing, and simply hope that someone would bring the situation to his attention. But that would all eventually lead to explanations of code rooms, which would lead to questions, which would be answered with the konami code and result in heated accusations and half-convincing justifications. Surge always told himself that he just never got the chance to explain this, not to Calhoun or to anyone, but it didn't help that he never _created_ the chance in the first place. He skirted around the issue constantly, and felt a conflicting sense of relief and disappointment that he always succeeded in avoiding it.

Every soldier in Hero's Duty swore blind that it was a quitting player's cowardice and apathy that made them mad, but it was widely whispered that the player's apparent disinterest in their game, and subsequent abandonment of its human inhabitants, affected them more.

But even worse was when a player gave up when they still had a chance to win, even if their probability of surviving was tiny. The point was that they had _a _chance, and something so valuable and hard fought for should not be discarded as if it were nothing. Calhoun would seethe with rage at being forced to die when she and her men still had a fighting chance, and would be in a sour mood for hours afterwards. The only person who would even try to get through to her in this state was Felix, and not even he could calm her down until she was ready. When a player suddenly upped and left them, Calhoun and her men could at least fight on, but they were still bound by the rule of never interfering with the First Person Shooter. Calhoun would rally her troops into a defensive circle around the abandoned FPS, who could do nothing but hold their loaded gun, watch the battle play out around them, and wait patiently to die.

Surge felt yet another vibration shudder along his lower leg as Calhoun kicked him again, and this time she added some reasoning into her orders. 'This game isn't over yet, and the mission isn't completed. There are still minutes on the clock and bullets in our guns, so get up.'

Surge swallowed drily, and felt a sudden burn of desire to tell Calhoun all about why she had wasted her time bringing Markowski to his office that one time. But a cold iron pincer clamped down on that thought easily, and he remained silent.

Calhoun was notoriously stubborn and used to being obeyed, but she was also smart and adaptable. If one tactic didn't work, then she would try another until one did. Surge knew she wouldn't kick him any more or simply repeat her order to get up: those routes had only partially worked, and now she was exploring a different one.

'I know you blame yourself for what Turbo did with the code, but it isn't your fault. You can't blame yourself for something you had no control over. Letting that one thing rule over you isn't going to help anyone, and since you're designed to help and protect us, I'd say you're wasting your time on something that doesn't even make sense.'

'…I did have…control over it. …well…some of it. I…' Surge started and faltered, and wanted to say so many things at once they came out as nothing.

Calhoun tilted her head. 'It's not possible to have control over everything, believe me.'

'…if I had never created the… that code, the konami code, Turbo would never have taken it.' Saying this almost full sentence took a terrible amount of energy out of him, but the words had come out easier and clearer this time. It was almost as if they _wanted_ to be released, and the very point of the energy he had left was to bring them into existence.

'That's true. And what's also true is that Litwak bought Turbo's console in the first place, so why not blame him?'

Surge involuntarily let out a soft sigh at the logic, and felt the first stirrings of irritation. He'd lost count of the number of similar arguments he'd had over the years. Chains of causation could be linked to almost anyone, and could be stretched to almost any time in the past if the person doing the arguing put a bit of effort into it.

'I should have been watching Turbo when he came into my office that day. I should have… checked, and ensured the code was locked away, I…I thought it was, but it clearly wasn't, or- he broke into the file and took it, I…I don't know! I don't _know_ how he got it, but he did. I should have thought of that possibility and been _prepared_. But I wasn't. And look what happened!' Surge's head had risen steadily off the ground as he tried to explain himself, the words unconsciously propelling him upwards, and when he'd finished he let his head fall back with a bang. It connected more painfully with the ceramic tile than it ever would to the ground, to the grid, and Surge felt his impatience begin to increase. Strangely though, the more his sense of irritation at things began to increase, the clearer his head felt. It was still a horrible mess inside, but the mess was becoming more organised and easier to define.

Calhoun's face hadn't lit up at her success in pulling Surge back from the edge of defeat and reigniting some sort of response from him. Instead it had darkened, and once again it was underscored by a layer of angry determination that was still directed at him, but this time it wasn't _because_ of him. Well not completely. Not totally.

Calhoun lowered her voice in slight anger. 'What happened was you let your guard down for an instant, and someone took advantage. It happens, and…and while you never forget it, you have to accept it and deal with the consequences, no matter what they are. Even…even if they're terrible and painful. You suck it up and get on with things, and…and you ensure it _never_ happens again by _never_ making the same mistake again. You didn't make that mistake again and neither will I. Time… is a great healer you know.'

Surge half rolled his eyes at the terrible cliché. 'Like you would know.'

Calhoun's face tightened and her eyes shone brightly with remembered pain. 'And _you_ know what happened on my wedding day,' she hissed, 'so don't be pulling the 'no-one's suffered as much as I have and no-one understands what I'm going through' BS with me.'

Surge's eyes widened fully in horrified recollection. Of course he knew what had happened on Calhoun's programmed wedding day - practically everyone in the Arcade did by now.

'Oh, I- I'm so sorry, I forgot and-'

'Never mind your sorries – they're pointless and won't change a thing. And don't you dare,' Calhoun instinctively began to threaten, 'tell me that it was just a memory, and nothing more than a programmed recollection that never actually happened, because it did! It _did_ happen and I _did_ feel it and I _still _feel it.' With a visible effort she lowered her voice back to a normal level. 'So don't even _think_ about travelling along that route, because it's dark and dangerous and I'll run you off it before you even have a chance to get your map out.'

'I wouldn't! I never have, I…I know more than anyone how reality can be defined, and you _know_ I know that.' Surge found his voice had also lowered, and Calhoun nodded her head once, curtly, to acknowledge the truth of his words. 'It…' he began, then paused as the jumble of static inside his head began to solidify and divide.

'That thing happened to you and it was terrible, but…and I don't mean- oh I really don't mean…it happened to you. _You_. It…unlike what I allowed – what _happened_ to me – it didn't affect anyone else. Well apart from Brad, of course, but one…I know one is still too many, but more than one is worse, and it…it…your lack of preparation didn't get multiple people murdered or result in an entire game becoming enslaved for fifteen years Tamora! _Fifteen Years! _All that time, all those people, it- well it's just hard to live with now.' Surge once again collapsed back onto the ceramic tile with a clunk, and felt an irrational twinge of annoyance that he'd ended such an outburst on such a stale and sudden note.

He should have concluded with a quote or a saying or something; maybe even a cliché, but obviously better than the one Calhoun had used. That shouldn't have been too difficult given his extensive vocabulary, since…actually maybe he should have used some of Calhoun's earlier spoken words against her, since that was an established tactic in an argument. But then again were they even _having_ an argument? What were they actually doing? Where was this conversation going? What was _he _doing and what was he _going_ to do? All of a sudden he felt exhausted again, and felt a liquid glaze coat his eyes as images of Turbo and blue code rooms and death and destruction and red pieces of corrupted binary flickered wildly before him.

Brilliant. All he needed to finish this day off was to burst into tears and have a complete meltdown, and then all the games plugged into him would probably short circuit and switch off and he'd have that to add to his conscience as well. He breathed in and out deeply, and fought the urge to reach up and wipe his eyes in tiredness, in case Calhoun thought he was rubbing them for another reason.

Calhoun bent slightly at the waist, and leaned over Surge in almost perfect imitation of when she'd just pinned him to the ground with her boot. But she wasn't touching him this time, and her low voice sounded almost…well almost understanding, and…and _hopeful _and _anxious _that he would not just listen to her words but would _believe _them; that he would understand and acknowledge and _act_ on them, and pick up on her unspoken and unshown concern that she'd have to save Vanellope and stop Turbo without him and that she might probably fail in doing so.

Calhoun tensed, and held her position. 'Right now you're the only one who knows what can be done here, and you need to tell us. Another thing I know well is that you can't fight everything by yourself. We're here, all three of us, and we're going to sort this out. We're going to _win_. But you need to tell us what to do.'

Surge smiled sadly at her. 'I don't _know_ what to do.'

'Yes, you do. You just don't think you do.'

'I can't. Save Vanellope? Stop Turbo? I don't think I can do _any_ of the things you want…any of the things you _expect_ me to do.' He sighed. 'I can't do any of the things I expect _myself_ to do.'

Calhoun's tone at once became softer and firmer. 'Yes, you can. You just need to start off, and that's always the hardest part.'

'…everything's the hardest part.' Pathetic, but in that moment Surge considered it the truest thing he'd ever said.

Calhoun didn't hesitate. 'Then we'll help you.' She reached out an arm and Surge flinched but didn't move. Calhoun left her hand resting parallel in the space just above one of his hands, and her voice dropped even lower. 'It's time to be helped up now.'

Surge shut his eyes, and knew that his smile had shifted from sad and anxious to painfully hopeful and anxious. 'My hand's uncovered,' he cautioned Calhoun. 'I might shock you again.'

Calhoun made no move to back away, and Surge felt a simultaneous desire for her to both obey and ignore him. He tried one last time, and couldn't honestly say if he wanted it to work or not. He felt a hollow sickness of anticipation, and almost light headed with relief that, one way or another, a final decision would soon be reached.

He breathed in, and in the low exhalation he issued his final warning. '…I'm a risk.'

Calhoun's response was even lower, and spoken so softly it didn't seem real. '…you're worth it.'

Immediately after those three syllables had been offered, Surge felt his eyes snap open and his hand tightly gripped. He was jerked sharply upright to his feet, and his head spun painfully. He stamped roughly, desperately, on his internal breaks to stop the gyroscopic spin his systems had been whipped into.

His mouth was open and he was about to ask Calhoun if-

'Quite your gawking, Wreck It!' Calhoun yelled suddenly, as she twisted sharply to face Ralph and neatly cut off anything Surge was about to say to her. 'You mention one word of any of this, and I'll shut you in a room full of Cy-bugs and personally be the one to lock the door and remove the key!'

'Hey!' Ralph yelled back in anger and surprise. 'I'm not gawking, I'm looking! Can't a man _look_ any more without being yelled out! And why would I want to talk about this hippy hug fest ever again anyway? You've got some serious anger issues lady, and it's about time you got them seen to!'

'What I want to see is your face at the end of my fist!'

'Oh that's just charming! And you actually _kiss_ Felix with that mouth? _Gross_.'

Surge found it difficult to follow their exchanged insults after that. His systems had been thrown out of line and routine not only because of what he'd just heard from Calhoun or from the sudden physical jerk to his feet, but because of what he'd earlier revealed. The konami code knowledge had been a part of him for almost as long as he'd existed. But he'd made no real effort to remove this foreign body, and as the years passed and he still didn't eliminate it – didn't even acknowledge its existence most of the time – it had settled and carved out an unnatural home for itself. But now it had been ejected, and his systems were going into shock at losing a part of itself. An unwanted part yes, but still a part.

But,no, Surge managed to deduce, his systems weren't spinning just because he'd now lost that chunk of private knowledge – if that had been true, this would have happened the instant he'd said the words. No, it…this must be happening because the knowledge had been heard and accepted as the truth. That he'd been believed.

No, more than that, he re-calculated suddenly – the knowledge had been believed and accepted, but so had he. Neither Ralph or Calhoun had turned their backs in disgust, or tried to delete him through fear he'd use the code's knowledge to try and take over a game. They hadn't formed any justifiable argument to abandon or hurt him, which is what he'd always expected would happen if he ever told the truth about the konami code. What he hadn't even considered to be a realistic outcome was anything even _approaching_ positive, and certainly never to be accepted for it. How could he be forgiven and accepted for something he hadn't even started thinking about forgiving himself for?

But it _was_ happening. The circuits and discs and electric blue lines of flashing code that formed his consciousness and hard wired internal systems squealed. They were stopped in their tracks, lifted out of their regular positions, adjusted accordingly, and forced into a fresh configuration. The re-settlement was unplanned and unprepared for, and instead of going into critical shock, they rejoiced at being given a new position and a new outlook. To use another uninspired saying, it was like losing a penny, looking to find another one, tentatively hoping you'd find a quarter, but actually being given a bundle of hundred dollar bills tied together in an elastic band to form a brick. The alignment was completed with unbelievable smoothness, as if his systems had been silently and patiently waiting for such an opportunity all along.

Surge felt the last line of code settle into place and the final set of wires and filaments complete their final circuit. Everything felt ice fresh and clear, and he realised his vocabulary wasn't anywhere near as extensive as he'd thought, because how on earth could be put into words what he was feeling now?

With a snap he turned to see Ralph and Calhoun still insulting one another, but they were doing it in a half-hearted way. Their exchange lacked fire now, and their postures hinted that they were on alert for something else to occur.

Surge had known their exchange was a way for them to both relieve some of the sudden and crushing tension that had built up ever since…well ever since he'd undertaken a 'random security' check on Ralph as he came out of Sugar Rush, who had been closely followed by Vanellope, who had been followed by Calhoun. Who all watched as Vanellope connected her own circuit and locked down the Arcade and brought herself to the edge of deletion. They'd all seen Taffyta emerge triumphant before being imprisoned, and they'd all been hit with the knowledge that Turbo would regenerate and how he got the code to do so.

All three of them had experienced all of this in a matter of seconds, and it was a wonder they hadn't all imploded or exploded sooner. Surge hadn't forgotten that Taffyta had heard all this too, and was glad the girl had remained silent throughout. He would deal with her, but one problem at a time here.

He felt fresh and raw, and disturbingly unshielded from things. He also considered himself exposed and vulnerable, as if the slightest knock would destroy him completely. Like any wound that had been newly stitched up the process was painful and would probably stay so for a while yet, but he knew – just _knew_ – that Calhoun's surgery had been necessary. Maybe she'd even saved his life. Probably a bit too melodramatic there (he'd blame a faulty bit of code taking its time to settle or something for that thought), but regardless if it was true or not, he in turn really did have a life to save.

_Three minutes and ten seconds left._

'If you two can give pause for a second to draw breath, I think it's time we started doing something to save Vanellope.' Ralph and Calhoun shut up immediately at Surge's words and faced him with expectant expressions, just like he suspected they would.

'Sweet Mother Hubbard about _time_!' Ralph exclaimed. 'What's the plan? Is she going to be alright?'

Surge looked at Calhoun for an instant before he answered, and saw that her face had set hard into her usual one of tough determination. She didn't wink or smile at him, but he knew – just _knew_ – that she really had just said those last three words to him. She had not only said them but _meant_ them. Surge also knew without a doubt that she'd never say them or even acknowledge them again, but he didn't mind. She'd done enough, and he would never anger her or make her feel uncomfortable by asking her for confirmation of them, just so that he could feel better about himself. She had said them once, and once was enough. Once was all it took.

Once was all it took for almost anything to happen.

Surge took a deep breath in, and looked Ralph in the eye and answered him. 'Vanellope should be, if- she _will_ be. Vanellope will be saved and Turbo will be stopped, and we're going to use the konami code to do so.'

Ralph raised his eyebrows in doubt, but also leaned forward in the hope that he was wrong. 'You really think so? You really think it can be used to do _both_ those things?'

Surge nodded and, despite himself – despite _everything_ – he felt himself begin to smile. Not because of the situation they were in, but rather because he could have found himself in a much worse one. He felt lighter and clearer than he had for years, and illogically confident that whatever happened next could be resolved. Maybe it was an aftershock of his partial system re-set, and this feeling would soon be wiped clean. Maybe he'd just made the mistake of overloading himself with too much optimism rather than too much doubt.

Maybe it was simply because he didn't feel so completely alone and disconnected any more.

'No, Ralph, I don't think so…I _know _so.'

Surge allowed the barest trace of a confident and genuine smile to score itself along his face, and respectfully acknowledged that it was the first one to do so in decades.

'Of course the konami code can do those things.'

When he repeated his claim it was not encased in fearful reluctance this time, but rather in calm acceptance. And if he was honest with himself, which he would certainly be doing a lot more of, there might even have been a bite of pride to his words.

'It's not Turbo's code and has never _been_ his code. It's _my _code and, if I can create it, I can certainly control it. So let's put it to good use. Let's go save your friend.'

Ralph smiled broadly, and his entire face lit up. 'Yeah! Let's do it! But…but can you_ really_ help Vanellope? Are you _sure_ you can use this code, and defeat Turbo, and save her life and do all those things in all the time that we have left?'

As Ralph's smile faltered and begin to decrease in certainty, Surge felt his own grow stronger. He felt his eyes spark and harden with determination, and felt a raw power begin to charge and fizzle as his whole body began to shine a bright cerulean blue.

'Just watch me.'


	7. Illumination - Part I

**AN: The next two chapters are really just one long chapter, but I've split them up to try and prevent a complete swamp of techno-babble and code theories. **

**As always, please know you have my thanks for sticking with this story and reading this chapter!**

* * *

**7. Illumination – Part I**

**SUGAR RUSH - 6 HOURS AGO **

Vanellope raced up the stairs and burst into the throne room, but Taffyta was nowhere to be seen.

'Taffyta!' Vanellope yelled, as her eyes darted around the room. 'Where are you? What's going on? Oh you better tell me what you're doing, or-'

'Gotcha!' Taffyta shrieked as she jumped up from behind the chair she was hiding behind. Vanellope glitched in shock, and she rounded on her fellow racer angrily.

'What are you playing at, berry brains?'

Taffyta pasted a nervous grin on her face, and spread her empty hands wide in clear innocence. 'Well more like you got me! I _was_ playing, and you found me!'

Vanellope screwed up her face in puzzlement. 'What? You're talking crazy Taffy, and-' her gaze drifted onto Taffyta's injured hand. 'Is that _blood_ on your hand?'

Taffyta quickly shoved the hand in her pocket and winced. Not from the pain, but for being so careless. She couldn't afford a slip up, not now she was so close.

'That? Oh, that's nothing – just strawberry icing from…from earlier.' Taffyta saw that Vanellope hadn't believed a word of that, and she couldn't blame her. She wouldn't have believed herself. But no matter – the device had been delivered, and now it was time to go.

Taffyta skipped towards the exit. 'Try and catch me this time, _Princess_ Vanellope!' With one last look behind her, Taffyta ran back down the stairs.

In an increasing state of agitation and anger Vanellope ran after her. She was determined to get an explanation out of Taffyta, and would demand to be told what she was hiding. She knew Taffyta was lying, and she knew that Taffyta had been injured.

She also knew that, just before Taffyta had ran back down the stairs, she had looked at the drapes which hid the entrance to their game's code room.

Her look had been anxious, and tinged with satisfaction.

* * *

**GAME CENTRAL STATION – PRESENT TIME**

'Al_right_, let's go save President Blocko! We've got what, ten minutes before she checks out? Plenty of time to get that ol' knoami code up and running, hey Surge?' Ralph beamed. The relief in his face was harsh and eager, as he rubbed his hands in anticipated victory. 'So let's get going!'

'Hold your horses,' Calhoun warned as she put up a hand. 'What about _her_?' She indicated Taffyta sharply with her thumb.

Ralph glared at the trapped girl briefly, and then shrugged. 'She's not going anywhere, right? I say we save Vanellope, stop Turbo – whatever _that_ may involve – and deal with her later.' He raised both arms and pointed down the hall, as if urging them in that direction. 'Come_ on_, let's gooooo!'

'Not so fast!' Calhoun looked at Ralph seriously. 'We can't just go charging off into the sunset here cowboy – we need a plan first.'

Ralph formed fists of impatience. 'Did you not hear what I just said? _That's_ our plan!'

Calhoun looked unconvinced. 'Taffyta isn't going anywhere that's true; but how are we going to stop Turbo?'

Ralph fell silent.

'Thought as much.'

Calhoun turned her attention to Surge, and it was almost as if she was making an effort to keep her voice hard and professional. 'What is Turbo's status?'

Surge failed to repress a small grimace. 'I don't know. _Someone_ smashed up the tablet computer, so I can't even try to get a timescale from it any more.' He closed his eyes at the realisation that he now had a third countdown to keep track of and, with the tips of his fingers, he rubbed heavily underneath his eyelids.

_Time until Vanellope's stabiliser runs out and she's gone for good - three minutes and seven seconds left. Ralph will just love hearing that._

_Time until my own internal power supply runs out - 48%. Which equates to, what, ten minutes? Thirty minutes? Four hours? The amount of power I'm sporadically using up, who knows. _

_Time until Turbo regenerates - …best not to think about that one too much. _

'I need to investigate the state of the engine, get the main generator back on-line, and then access the CPU again.' Surge opened his eyes and tried to inject a drop of optimism into his to-do list. 'But my theory about him regenerating might be incorrect, and there's not really that much to worry about after all.'

Ralph and Calhoun wore thoroughly unconvinced looks on their faces, and Surge weakly concluded with '…I have been wrong plenty of times before don't forget.'

They remained silent and clenched his hands into fists as well, except unlike Ralph the actions weren't motivated by anger.

His euphoric confidence and sense of…well of feeling absolutely _fantastic_ was already wearing off. Not completely of course, since he still felt better than he had in ages. But no longer as if he could control the world with a snap of his fingers. Reality was gushing back in at an almost alarming rate, and his established personality circuits were already having their first argument with his newly arranged lines of code. The circuits were throwing up road blocks and spilling oil and generally throwing a bit of a temper tantrum.

And, honestly, did he really just say _'Just watch me'_ to them? Like it was his catchphrase or something? As if he was in Street Fighter or Mortal Kombat, and those were his designated words to proudly pronounce to the world before he plunged into glorious battle?

He cringed just thinking about it.

Hopefully he didn't sound too pretentious, or pompous, or just plain ridiculous. But now he was thinking about his recently spoken words he couldn't stop. The declaration of near invincibility was one thing, but what really brought him back to earth with a crash was the way he talked about the konami code. He'd made it seem that this code was pure magic, and could be used to do absolutely anything you want, when it really _really_ wasn't that straightforward at all.

Brilliant. Now he'd have to backtrack and explain himself, and hope they didn't think he was nothing more than a boasting liar. Oh well, at least it could be an appropriate form of mild punishment for _Just watch me!_

'That to-do list has too many _I's_ in it,' Calhoun said. 'It's better we don't split up, and instead work together. Just good tactics you understand.'

Surge nodded. Tactics were good, and good ones were even better. Obviously. It's obvious that good tactics are good, because otherwise – _No, stop delaying with rambling thoughts: it has to be said, and the sooner the better. Let's at least __**try**__ and learn something from all this._

Surge stood up straight and told them bluntly. And quickly, before he could think about something else to use as a distraction.

'The konami code can't just fix things, and I'm sorry if I made it sound like it could, I… Vanellope _can _still be saved, she really can. But it has to be done in three minutes, because that's all she has left. Turbo…well I need to find out more. _But_,' he promised as both Ralph and Calhoun opened their mouths, 'I will answer any questions you have on the way. Ralph's right: we need to get moving now, and where we have to go is the backup outlet. Designation tango charlie four to be precise. It's behind a sliding panel at the end of the Station, and won't take us long to get there. _And_,' he continued quickly as both Ralph and Calhoun opened their mouths further, 'Ta-Sergeant Calhoun is also right: Taffyta isn't going anywhere. The remote barrier enclosures were tested thoroughly, and nothing's ever escaped from them.'

Ralph closed his mouth but Calhoun's twisted slightly, as her originally planned question was replaced by a different thought. Her mouth curled upwards, and with surprise Ralph saw that she was grinning.

'The barriers were tested _very_ thoroughly, yes. Once anyone is behind a barrier, no matter where they are in the Station, they will _stay_ behind one. If someone can be trapped mid-air, they're not gonna go anywhere on the ground.' She looked at Surge with that same grin, and it took him a second to catch on.

The image hit him vividly, and he matched her inappropriate grin with one of his own. The memory of trapping Sonic mid-air never failed to amuse him, especially when it got to the part where he feebly threatened to go on strike as a result of their unorthodox testing. But now was not the time. He realised this at the same time as Calhoun did, and both of their expressions cleared. Calhoun's hardened, while his own turned thoughtful.

He looked through the transparent tube at Taffyta, who was sitting with her knees up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. Her head was bowed, and her face was hidden.

'Taffyta is safe and contained right where she is. We need to investigate the engine first, and then get some power back on-line. For now, she can wait. But we can't.' Surge said these words with more confidence than he felt, and with two-thirds relief and one-third alarm he saw that Ralph and Calhoun accepted them without question.

With one last look at Taffyta, he turned to face the opposite direction and strode away smartly.

Ralph and Calhoun caught up with him, and the three of them started to walk away. Glass and debris crunched under their feet, and without breaking stride Calhoun reached down to collect the ceramic blanket. With one hand she folded it back into shape, and just as Surge was about to ask her about it Ralph asked his first question.

'Why'd you create the code in the first place?'

Surge had been expecting that one, and had already thought of some positives to balance out the negatives.

'Back when I was first…well purchased or activated I guess, I had the most technologically advanced games plugged into me. That included your game Ralph, as well as Pac-Man, Tappers, and…Turbo Time. The purpose of my existence was – still _is_ – to protect every game connected to me. And to do that it made sense for me to learn as much as possible about them.' He stepped over a particularly large piece of window, and winced at the thought of installing them all again.

'The security on each game was almost non-existent back then, and it was…well it was easy to access each code room. In fact it was _dangerously_ easy for absoloutely _anyone_ to access the life blood of their game, so I wrote a code to prevent unauthorised access to them. And before you say anything I _know_ that didn't work out too well!' Surge sighed.

'I think I need to change it. The code that is. It can't be a universal unlock code any more, and…well maybe only selected people in each game should have a unique code for their game's code room. Like the game's lead hero and villain. If there are no clearly defined roles, we'll…we'll draw names out of a hat or something.' He risked a quick glance at his companions, but to his pleasant surprise they didn't seem like they were about to start shouting, or look as if they were going to hit him or- _What did I tell you? Stop thinking like that._

Surge stepped around a large crack in the floor took a deep breath. He may as well be honest and get most of it out before they began to hack his explanations to pieces. _Which is what they're entitled to do, so I'm allowed to think __**that**__._

Still with his eyes on the debris strewn floor in front of him, Surge continued.

'The konami code is the reason you're allowed to leave your games you know. As soon as a game is plugged in I access the room and add a line of code to enable you to do so. This is also when I embed encryption layers to stop you getting killed outside of your game, which is also something I thought up all by myself. The code is not just used for dangerous purposes you know – Turbo's given it a terrible reputation. It's…it's only when – only _if_ – the code is in the wrong hands that it's dangerous. Like a gun, or a knife, or…' Surge rubbed his forehead.

'And yes I admit I was simply _curious_ about code rooms. Who wouldn't be? They're _fascinating_. Not that anyone ever shared this view…well except for Turbo that is. He…let me be clear, before I get distracted or go off-topic or-… the konami code only allows you to _access_ a code room. It doesn't give you the ability to manipulate the code streams inside of it.'

'So how did Turbo know what to do once he got inside it then?' Calhoun asked sharply.

Surge smiled sadly, and his words were tinged with nostalgia. 'Turbo had a near eidetic memory. We…talked about this once, and came to the conclusion that it wasn't actually part of his programming. Rather it was something he developed. All he had in his world was a single race track, a couple of cars to race against, a garage and a static crowd. There wasn't much variation to his environment, and so there wasn't much for him to memorise. But memorise it he did, because he knew that factoring in even the smallest of detail could give you an advantage over your competitor. He was programed to _want_ to win, but he learnt _how _to win. He was a competitor and a perfectionist and loved it all.'

Calhoun gave him a narrow sideways glance. 'Sounds like you admire the little scum bag.'

'Admi_red_,' Surge corrected with a snap. 'And no, not really. Well sort of, I-' he kicked a heap of glass and brick shards, and saw them crash into other piles. He knew he shouldn't have tried to explain this to them. In fact just talking about Turbo was fraught with danger, but he could hardly be ignored now.

'You haven't actually answered my question yet,' Calhoun prompted not quite so gently.

Surge nodded reluctantly. 'I talked about coding and data for countless hours with Turbo. Well, when I say talked, it was more like he asked the questions and I answered them. It was more like…' _More like he was just pumping me for information,_ he silently concluded to himself. His stomach burned, and he swallowed tightly before continuing. 'Turbo must have remembered nearly every word I spoke, as well as what he saw in my office when he got the code. He probably even saw what I had on my computers. Probably practiced code breaking on them.' He sighed, and with a spark of irritation wondered why he was sighing so much so soon again.

He fought the urge to kick an even larger pile of glass as far as he could, and his voice rose loudly.

'Turbo was almost frantic when he hacked into Sugar Rush don't forget! He'd spent _years_ waiting to get into a suitable game after Road Blasters, and…and he had _recklessness_ and _selfishnes_s and _desperation_ as well as expert knowledge on his side when hacked into that game's code.'

Calhoun fell silent, and Surge went back to looking dead ahead of him. The end of the Station was still in shadow, but it was getting closer. Just in time he stopped himself from sighing again, and made an effort to push his shoulders back and stand up straighter.

'I could… _relate_ to Turbo's desire to learn as much about your environment as possible. Despite how surge protectors look – how they seem on the outside from human eyes, and probably to everyone in here as well, I don't know; well I suspect I know what you think of my appearance, but-' he stopped himself mid-flow and flexed his fingers. He realised he'd forgotten to pick up his gloves, but he fought the temptation to use that as a convenient distraction.

'Surge protectors are adaptable. We have to be. We're programmed with set parameters, but we have to recognise different levels of power surges and distribute the excess power accordingly. Because the level of power that might hit the devices plugged into use can't be predicted, we've been programmed to be adaptable. And those that can adapt will survive. Those that can adapt will _evolve_ and survive.'

He glanced nervously at his audience, and with a warm jolt saw that Ralph was looking at him in amazement. Well, Surge thought to himself in a ridiculous level of smug happiness, I know I'm interesting but I didn't think I was _that_ interesting, but if Ralph thinks I am then-

'We're all _idiots_! Every single _one_ of us!' The Wrecker burst out suddenly, as he spun his head back the way they had come.

Surge felt his warm balloon drain away quickly. Obviously he wasn't that interesting after all. What a stupid thought to even have had. A heavy block of disappointment landed in his gut, and he addressed Ralph irritably. 'Have you been listening to a word I've just said? Here I am opening up for the first time in years and trying to educate you and-'

'I know how to save Vanellope!' Ralph interrupted. With a huge palm he smacked his forehead, and grinned widely.

'I very much doubt that,' Surge said bluntly, and instantly regretted it. It would be just his luck to lose all the ground he'd just gained by speaking in the tone of voice he usually used with the Wrecker.

But Ralph wasn't bothered by it, and before Surge could backtrack he felt Ralph's hands on his shoulders. They were huge, and he nearly buckled under their weight. '…Ralph, what…?' Surge gasped, as he fought to remain upright.

Ralph looked him in the eyes and grinned even wider. The Wrecker's own eyes were alight with possibility, and fuelled by certainty.

'I know how to save Vanellope without using one _digit_ of your precious konami code.'


	8. Illumination - Part II

**AN: Once again this part turned out longer than I'd planned. I think I should just make that sentence a standard disclaimer at the start of every chapter! Thank you to everyone that's still reading this or may have just started – if you have any comments or feedback or ways in which I can improve, please let me know :)**

* * *

**8. Illumination – Part II**

'…what do you…how could you… save…look just get off me!' Surge snapped. He tensed and pushed back from Ralph, as he struggled to stay upright under the weight bearing down on his shoulders.

'But I can save Vanellope!' Ralph repeated himself loudly, as he gripped harder.

Surge tried to pull back again, and clenched his hands into fists at the sharp pain in his shoulders. Great. This was the second person in as many minutes to trap him, and it would have been easy to bring his own hands up and give the Wrecker a mild shock to release him, but he didn't think that would go down too well. It could be too easy to get into that habit, and it could use up more internal power than necessary.

…even if Ralph did deserve it sometimes.

…_no, definitely shouldn't have thought that last thought._

Surge instead gave Ralph a scowl, and involuntarily hissed in discomfort as Ralph's fingers dug in. 'You… won't be able to save Vanellope if you've been electrocuted, which- which is what will happen when you…snap me in half, so get. _Off_.'

Ralph blinked, and a slight frown of irritation crept into his face. 'Yeah, right.'

The huge hands were released, and Surge staggered back at the sudden release of tension. He reached up to rub his aching shoulders, and couldn't help his own irritation from showing on his face. _Oh yes, it's just typical that Ralph was annoyed just then. He couldn't have shown a trace of concern that he was about to crush me, oh no - it's my fault for having the nerve to worry about my health and life instead of instantly encouraging him in his stupid plan to save Vanellope which probably will be stupid, because I didn't think of it and…_

Surge closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. He wasn't being fair, he knew that.

Ralph was known to act rashly at times, and he couldn't be blamed for wanting to save Vanellope as quickly as possible. Surge knew he had to act above the temptation to be petty and snap back, but it was difficult. He often got sick and tired of being the sensible and professional one, but if he didn't then he wouldn't be doing his job properly. And he never believed for a second that others would see such acts of rule-breaking or expressions of discontent as positive traits. They often did with other characters, but not with him.

…or would they?

Surge breathed in deeply again, and composed himself with a thought that gave him more comfort than it should have. _Well at least I've got some ideas for next month's graffiti. It's been a while since Fix-It Felix Junior's tunnel had a splash of colour to it after all._

Surge opened his eyes and saw that Ralph had also composed himself. The Wrecker was looking keen and hopeful and had an odd sort of pleading look in his eyes. He looked like he was convinced of his idea but still had a slight doubt, and needed Surge's approval to banish it.

Surge found that the desire to offer up a bitingly bland or sarcastic remark had left him. Someone's life was as stake here, and enough time had been wasted already.

'What's your idea?' he asked Ralph calmly. Well no not quite calmly, because there was a pitch of curiosity and a trace of excitement to it. Maybe Ralph really _had_ figured out a way to save Vanellope, and they'd all been blind to it. With a flash of mild alarm Surge realised that while it would obviously be great if Vanellope could be saved, it wouldn't do his own reputation any good.

But then again he could just say he'd been about to suggest that very same thing, and no-one would be able to prove otherwise.

Slightly mollified, Surge found himself slowly mirroring Ralph's smile. Perhaps it was an excellent plan, and all this would be instantly resolved.

Ralph stood up straight and his grin widened again. 'It's simple. We all know that if you die outside your game you _die_ die, but if you die _inside _your game you don't really die - you regenerate. So lets just put Vanellope back in her game!'

Calhoun breathed in sharply at this, and looked approvingly at Ralph.

But Surge felt his heart plummet (had it _really_ been beating that fast to begin with?) at Ralph's suggestion.

On the surface it was an excellent idea, and Ralph had outlined the broad strokes of death and regeneration. But there were several critical flaws in it. Without any effort Surge looked at Ralph in consolation and knew he had to again speak quickly and clearly to get the bad news out of the way, and before he lost his nerve to do so.

'That won't work. It _can't_ work. I'm sorry Ralph, but I can't remove the emergency dampener fields from the games' entrances. It's too dangerous to risk it right now. The state of the engine needs to be investigated first, and then maybe I can release the quarantine restrictions.'

Ralph's face plummeted immediately, and he again formed huge gripped fists with his hands. 'But it's a risk worth taking! Just…_open_ Sugar Rush and _try_. Isn't Vanellope worth it?'

'Of course she's worth it,' Surge responded quietly. 'But something worse might happen to _every_ game as a result. Until the engine and the generator and the possible mess that's happening with Turbo is investigated, I just don't know. And I won't risk anyone else getting hurt. _Every_ game in the arcade is at stake here Ralph, and…and aren't _they_ worth it?'

Ralph turned away and let his entire body slump in defeat. Before Surge could decide whether to apologise again or explain some more, Calhoun spoke up.

'Time's a ticking gentlemen. The sooner we get a clear picture of things the sooner we can sort this mess out. Let's go.'

She began walking again, and Surge and Ralph followed behind her, side by side.

Surge had participated in countless awkward silences during his time, but he really didn't want this to be one of them. He was of course concerned about everything in possible store for them, but he was also worried that the progress he'd made with Ralph and Calhoun would stall now. As difficult or as awkward as it may be, he didn't want to lose any momentum, no matter how small it may be.

He tapped his fingers nervously against his leg for a second, before he decided to just do it and try.

'It was a good idea Ralph; any other time it would have been perfect.'

Ralph kept his eyes on the ground as they walked. '…but not this time.'

'…no.' Surge glanced at Ralph quickly, and with a thump of regret knew that word was the wrong one to say. Not very optimistic, and a perfect stopper to the conversation. Well done.

Surge took a breath and tried again. 'It's not just the quarantine fields to the game you know, it's…Vanellope's current condition is unique. Well not _unique_, as that's probably not the best word to say, even if it is true, and- she's reacting in a way I've never seen. It's ridiculously tough keeping her even _relatively_ stable outside of her game in perfect conditions, thanks to that permanent glitch of hers, but these aren't - they weren't - perfect conditions. When she completed that circuit and got overwhelmed by, presumably, the power generated by the engine, something happened that I've got no experience with. I've got ideas about how to treat her of course, don't get me wrong, but-' Surge paused mid-flow, and checked her countdown timer.

_Two minutes and fifty seconds left._

At the break in sound Ralph finally looked up, and Surge made eye contact with him. '…but don't forget Vanellope _herself_ is ridiculously tough, and she _will_ fight this. She will fight and, with our help, she will win.'

Ralph smiled at the truth of those words, and straightened himself. They continued walking, and the silence felt a lot less empty this time.

Perhaps Ralph had also wanted to make an effort at maintaining conversation, or maybe he was just curious, or maybe he just wanted to say something to take his mind off of Vanellope, but whatever his motives he started speaking to Surge.

'Uh, sorry about the tablet computer back then, I…well I may have lost my temper a bit. Force of habit. And programming. And habit. …yeah, I already just said that. Look, when this is all sorted out I'll get Felix to give it a whack with his hammer. That'll put the old screen back together.'

A small smile flickered on Surge's face. 'Thanks. But there's no need - I've got plenty of them.'

'Really?'

Surge nodded. 'The one you smashed up was only a basic model anyway. _How_ Taffyta got hold of it is just one of many things I'm looking forward to asking her.'

Ralph looked at Surge curiously. 'What do you need those tablets for?'

Surge shrugged lightly. 'Basic functions really: data logging, administrative tasks, monitoring and maintenance usually. Pretty handy when I want a record of any character's movements as well.'

Ralph stopped walking, and regarded Surge with an even deeper look of curiosity. In fact it was beginning to slide into incredulity. '_Any_ movement? You can tell where _any_one is in the Station?'

Surge stopped walking as well, and felt a large piece of glass crunch under his foot. 'Not just Game Central Station - I can monitor characters pretty much throughout the entire Arcade.'

Ralph frowned. 'And you just…_know_ where we are and what we're doing and…and what we're most definitely _not_ smuggling out of games?'

'Yes. To a large extent I'm aware of everything that happens and I record it internally. I _am_ essentially a representation of the physical Surge Protector itself don't forget, so I receive a steady stream of information about any game plugged into me. Which is a lot. And I mean a _lot_, given how many games _are_ plugged in and how often they're used.' Surge looked at Ralph warily. '…why?' He really didn't want to hear yet _again_ how so many people and pieces of equipment had bypassed his systems over the years, and by now he was completely fed up with justifying himself.

But Ralph was seemingly oblivious to Surge's mounting discomfort, and continued his train of thought. 'So you know all this just…inside your head? You don't even need a tablet computer? You just _know _it?'

'Yes. How many times do I have to repeat myself? A tablet has its uses, but it's not essential. And it's a _lot_ more complex than me just_ knowing _things of course, as I have to use a wide range of sensors and systems to maintain an effective monitoring programme. But I'll spare you the boring technical details of it.'

'So you don't need to, you know, write anything done?'

'Of course not. I have an excellent system of compatible memory banks, so why would I?' Surge fought the desire to tut loudly in irritation. 'Why are you asking all this?'

The Wrecker slowly scratched his head, looked at Surge, and asked the question that was on his mind.

'…so then why do you use a clipboard and pen?'

Surge blinked in surprise. No-one had ever asked him this before. But then again no-one – well at least not to his knowledge - was aware that he could monitor and record so much in the first place. And if anyone _was_ to ever ask him about his clipboard, he would never have put money on it being Ralph.

'Seems pretty pointless to me. And out of date. And let me tell you one thing buddy, if you're goin' for smart and serious and professional with that thing, you…' Ralph trailed off, as he realised how unflattering his description was becoming.

'…fail miserably?' Surge concluded blandly. Ralph winced slightly and rubbed the back of his head harder.

'Sorry man, I-'

'I don't carry it as a fashion accessory you know! It…well it's…' Surge sighed. Of all the things he'd wished people had asked him over the years, he hadn't seriously considered his clipboard and pen would be one of them. In truth it was completely unnecessary, and a pointless duplication of information. But it was a useful distraction if he needed one, as he could use it as an excuse not to look at anyone, or could grip it tightly when confronting a certain character. Wringing his hands in anxiety or forming tight fists of rage weren't images he wanted to be associated with, and they portrayed emotions he didn't want anyone to know about.

He also used it in the hope that the characters he questioned would see it. They'd look at the clipboard and see what was written - or what box he'd ticked - and understand that he had fairly and correctly monitored their movements. But what he really hoped for was that they'd see what he _hadn't _written about them. About how he hadn't recorded the smuggled objects they tragically tried to conceal, or the real amount of time they'd spent in a game they shouldn't have. They'd see that he'd covered for them, or let things slip, and they'd thank him and grin at him and give him more than just lies and indifference next time.

But the whole truth sounded pathetic, so Surge only told Ralph the top layer of it.

'I use it so that people can 'accidentally' look at it, and see what I've written about them. Then they'll…they'll know that I'm keeping track of things, and that I'm monitoring everyone fairly, and that I'm keeping them safe. It's clear proof that I'm doing my job correctly.'

Ralph opened his mouth to continue, but without thinking Surge spat out 'Yes I know it _obviously _wasn't clear proof that I was doing my job correctly, what with Turbo and Road Blasters and Sugar Rush and because everything here,' he spread his arms out wide to indicate the dark and deserted Station and all the games connected to it, 'is _obviously _not alright! I'm fully aware of that thank you, and how I failed to-'

'Calm down! Jeez, I was only gonna say thanks for explaining it to me.'

'Oh.' Surge lowered his arms quickly in embarrassment. 'Sorry, I-' he broke off as he was interrupted by a dark orange hexagon flashing in his monitoring screen.

_!_47% internal power supply remaining!_

Brilliant. That pointless outburst had just cost him another per cent of much needed power. He needed to connect to the main generator sooner rather than later. He quickly broke eye contact and began to walk forwards again, but Ralph wasn't finished.

'Hey, one more thing.'

With reluctance Surge stopped again and looked back at Ralph. 'What? First of all you tell us that we need to get a move on so we can save Vanellope, but _now_ you decide it's a brilliant time to stop and have a chat! Make your mind up.' This came out sharper than he'd planned, but the fact that Ralph had just been about to thank him had unsettled him more than he'd been prepared for. When something happens for the first time it will always makes an impact regardless of its content, especially if it was something you'd been hoping for for a long time.

Ralph didn't sigh or snap back with an insult, which slightly unsettled Surge even more. But only slightly. The Wrecker was deep in thought, and Surge could practically see the cogs turning inside his large head.

'So let me get this straight - you said Turbo had a near photographic memory, right?'

'_Eidetic_ memory.' So Ralph had been listening to him earlier.

'Right, right - so why…why did he write the konami code down on a napkin then?'

Surge instinctively opened his mouth to reply, but found that he couldn't. He froze in position, as an initial enquiry into the top layer of his memory banks failed to provide him with an answer. This was the second insightful question Ralph had asked him in under a minute, and he began to feel a slight pool of guilt begin to spread at the thought that he'd underestimated Ralph to the extent that he had.

_No. No more guilt. For the love of everything, just stop feeling guilty about things - you've never treated Ralph badly and, lets not forget, Ralph would casually blurt out that he hated you - actually __**hated**__ you - and he underestimated you __**far **__more than you did him. In fact he probably never even got to the __**stage**__ of underestimation, since he hardly bothered to think about you in the first place. _

_But…but did he __**really**__ hate you? Just now when he said he was going to thank you, he didn't follow it up with an insult or a world weary arm gesture or even a look of dislike. He was probably just too wrapped up in what's going on and worried about Vanellope to remember to do so of course, but…but then what if…what if maybe he didn't do either of those things because he didn't feel the need to? Because he didn't __**want**__ to? Maybe he'd been putting on an act just like you'd been doing, and didn't think of you as badly as you thought he had, and he just couldn't bring himself to admit that-_

_Oh__Enough. __**Enough**__. _

_You can over-analyse these deep and meaningful and completely relevant thoughts and feelings later - maybe you can even indulge in a bit of anguish as well, since you haven't done __**that**__ for a while, but later._

_**Later**__._

_**Now **__is the time to think about why Turbo wrote your konami code down on a napkin, when you know full well that he didn't ever need to. _

Still with his mouth slightly open Surge felt his eyes slightly glaze over, as he cracked open the secondary level of his memory banks. All the files burst open simultaneously, and he effortlessly began to filter through the incredible amount of information stored in them.

Nothing.

With a twinge of worry and slightly more than a flare of irritation, he discarded these files and progressed to the final layer of encrypted memory chests. He unlocked them all with a crack, and their overloaded contents poured out and flooded over him like a wave of syrup and glass.

Still nothing.

He didn't have _one_ memory about why Turbo ever wrote the code down on a napkin from Tappers, not one. With his memory banks a dead loss, he'd have to power up his analytical reasoning circuits. He diverted yet more power from his internal supply and turned on the first one. And just as it sparked and connected, he came up with the answer.

Well he came up with what he _thought_ was the answer, since it was based not on recognition and recall but rather possibility, probability and deduction. A small thick circle of titanium coloured silver materialised in his monitoring screen, and it made an effort to assure him that there was a __94.67% probability of likelihood__ that his theory was correct.

But he wasn't the only one to be tearing along this train of thought, because next to him he heard Calhoun gasp. He closed his mouth and looked her in the eye and they both _knew _what the other was thinking, and both _knew_ that what was being thought was more probable than possible, and more dangerous than genius.

'If he had, than we have a problem,' Calhoun summarised darkly.

Surge nodded, and disconnected his reasoning circuits. He could have run a secondary stream along them to double check his theory, but he didn't see the point in using more power to do so. If Calhoun supported it, than that was all he needed.

'We need to check it out now and prove it. Or _dis_prove it. But this comes first.'

Calhoun also nodded, and they both began to turn back the way they'd come.

'Hey!' Ralph exclaimed angrily. 'Don't worry about keeping me in the loop guys! I know I'm just the spare wheel to think about this in the first place - to question something you too geniuses clearly missed - so it's not like I need an answer or anything! Go on, go - you two just run along and don't worry about Old Ralph slowing you down.'

Surge and Calhoun glanced briefly at each other, as they halted their pivot and looked back at Ralph.

'Turbo might have written it down on purpose,' Calhoun began bluntly, not wishing to waste time and not wanting to portray her suspicion as fact. 'He'd had his cold grey fingers on that code for years before he used it in Sugar Rush, which was plenty of time for him to memorise it.'

'Which he didn't actually need to do,' Surge interjected smoothly, 'since it would have been imprinted in his memory the moment he first saw it.'

'So why,' Calhoun continued seamlessly, 'like you said, did he bother to waste ink writing it down?'

'Maybe he did it for the same reason I do - so that someone can _accidentally _read it over his shoulder.'

'And who would do that?'

'Who would Turbo _want_ to do that?'

Ralph's head swivelled left and right, as he tried to keep up with the explanation being shared between Surge and Calhoun. 'I don't know! Clyde? Who?'

'The only person who knew he'd tampered with Sugar Rush's code in the first place,' answered Calhoun, as her eyes narrowed and her stance began to shift.

'Sour Bill,' Surge concluded bluntly, as he began to align his electrical atoms and prime their charge.

'What? Did you- _what_?' Ralph asked in obvious confusion, and more than a little anger at having been the only one still not to figure out the answer to his own question.

Surge felt his electrical field begin to expand, and he flexed his fingers. 'When we questioned Sour Bill, he said that Turbo always took out the napkin and entered the code in front of him. And he did this _every time_. What if Turbo _wanted_ him to see the code?'

'Why would he want that?'

Calhoun was taking deep controlled breaths, as she also began to prime herself. 'So that his henchman could also memorise it, and so that he could then use it himself.'

Ralph's eyes momentarily widened in comprehension, but then narrowed again. 'What? No! He- come on guys, Turbo was hardly a genius! Crazy and reckless and slightly above average intelligence I'll grant him, but do you _really_ think he could come up with something like that!' Ralph looked directly at Surge. '_You _hadn't thought of that, and you're the cleverest person in this place! Do you _really _think that overblown circuit racer had the brains to make such a plan that far in advance?'

Surge registered that his electrical field had now set, and that the energy particles it would carry would soon start to vibrate. He looked down at his pale bare fingers and most definitely did not focus on what Ralph had just called him, and clenched them together to stop the tremble he could feel approaching. 'Turbo had ten years to kill before he entered Sugar Rush after he escaped Road Blasters - a decade is plenty of time for _anyone_ to plan for any number of possibilities.' Surge clenched his hands tighter. 'It's not like he had much else to do while he waited in the shadows all that time.'

'So, wait, let me get this straight…' Ralph held up both hands palm out, and took a breath. 'You're saying that Turbo deliberately wrote down the code and more or less waved it in Sour Bill's face for him to remember. Why?'

Surge sighed and met Ralph's eyes again. 'In case Turbo ever had need of it again. Like now. He hedged a bet that he'd corrupted Sour Bill's programming enough for him to remain loyal to him, even if Sugar Rush reset and everyone's memories were restored. Maybe he hinted of the possibility of regenerating, and promised Sour Bill all sorts of things if he helped him back to life.'

Ralph sighed, and shook his head. There was a twisted grin on his face, and his next comment was said mostly in jest. 'Sure, why not. Maybe the old sour ball himself kept up the tradition and passed the code on to someone else!'

As one Surge and Calhoun breathed in sharply, and their eyes widened at this unconsidered possibility.

'…Oh'

'Oh…'

Ralph's face fell. '…oh no _way_. If Turbo wanted _that_, why didn't he just _tell _Sour Bill to pass the code onto someone? Why take the risk and assume that rotten candy would guess his true intentions? That he'd even _remember_ to do it if his memories ever got restored?'

In the sudden silence that fell, all three looked back towards the forcefield tube. The remote barrier enclosure was still there but it was difficult to see clearly, since the Station was still bathed in dust and shadows. Lights from the barrier's power supply blinked sporadically at its base, and twinkled in the distance.

Blue, orange, green and repeat.

A blurred shape shifted inside – or was it outside? – of the tube, and it was impossible to tell if it was occupied or not.

Blue, orange, green and repeat.

And repeat.

Surge counted and calculated the blinking lights, and finally answered Ralph. 'That's what we need to find out.'

Blue, orange, green and repeat.

And repeat.

An instant later, at the exact same time, Calhoun and Ralph raised their legs to begin running as Surge connected to the grid, converted into electricity, and zipped forwards in a spark of blue.


	9. Execution

**AN: Standard Disclaimer: This chapter ended up being longer than I'd planned. No, really, it did. **

**A nice lot of technical and computer based descriptions had to be written before my inner science nerd could be silenced, and only then could some actual character interaction and dialogue be written.**

**And as always thank you again for continuing to read this story, and for any comments you may have about it – they're always much appreciated!**

* * *

**9. Execution**

**GAME CENTRAL STATION - PRESENT TIME**

In a blue crackle of electricity, Surge materialised in front of the barrier enclosure almost as soon as he'd left for it.

His vision was consumed by the forcefield tube, which looked like a clear glass pipe stretching all the way up to the cracked ceiling. But like all solid things it was really composed of microscopic particles tightly bonded together, and he was able to observe them vibrate in their compositions. But instead of shimmering gently in alignment, they were frayed and sparking and bucking against their programmed settings.

They were almost…_hissing._

Which was stupid, because sub-atomic particles didn't hiss like a snake. But that's what it sounded like. That's what it…well what it _felt_ like, when he stretched out his arms and placed his palms up against it.

Well whatever it supposedly felt or looked like, it certainly wasn't right. Not that he'd had much experience examining the barrier enclosure's structure on this level for a while, but when something felt wrong it usually was. Unless of course when it _wasn't_, and all your fears and paranoia and carefully thought out plans that could be used in the event of an emergency were for nothing, especially when you were quite proud of those plans and maybe actually _wanted_ the bad thing to happen just so you could put it into action, and do something a bit different, a bit out of routine, but not that you ever wanted anyone to get hurt of course, for it would just be to prove that you _could _cope with things and show everyone and- what?

Surge cut off this long-winded train of thought with a bite of annoyance, and re-directed the tracks with a snap._ For now why don't you try the novel approach of actually concentrating on a real problem that's to hand, rather than ramble on about theoretical ones and how you'll brilliantly save the day again. _

_**Especially**__ since this particular problem is, quite literally, to hand._

He pushed his palms harder against the tube and immediately activated every sensor he possessed, including the ones he knew weren't relevant, because what if they were? What if this time they actually _were,_ and what if he missed something because he held back on it? What if something happened because he didn't want to risk looking foolish for undertaking a check that, on the surface, seemed pointless?

He didn't want that on his conscious.

And neither did he want yet another thing to have to apologise for missing, for that list was already long enough, and it still pained him to think about it.

But that was just an afterthought, and definitely not a joint priority.

He heard a drumming and felt a deeper set of vibrations as Calhoun and Ralph ran full tilt towards him. These vibrations soon bled away, and were overwritten by smaller and more concentrated pulses of energy as his vision shifted and he connected to the main grid.

The threads of the main grid were bright emerald green, and were set out like a sprawling mega city in a pitch black sky.

He navigated their complex network with practised ease, and soon found the handful of threads that powered the barrier enclosure.

The grid was an interconnecting set of main roads, and was the invisible support structure of Game Central Station and every game connected to it. Except the roads weren't all one size, and they weren't all straight. They stacked and looped and curled and _soared_ and, just as a code vault held the lifeblood of a game, the grid held the lifeblood of _all_ the games.

Energy particles hurtled along these roads at a velocity that could not be understood by any character, and when Surge had tried to explain their purpose and describe their existence, it never generated much interest. On the few occasions he had attempted to talk about it, he'd always been met with blank faces, glazed eyes and slightly open mouths. Mouths not open in shock or awe though, which is how they should have reacted of course, since the science of the arcade was _fascinating_.

He was always surprised that they never purchased the full ticket and didn't just start drooling, as their obvious boredom caused their systems to threaten to shut down completely. Honestly, was it _really_ too much to ask for someone to be left dumbstruck by unexpected wonder instead of giving in to crushing tedium?

Even Turbo had failed to suppress his lack of excitement or comprehension when Surge had brought up the structure of the arcade's grids. He'd tried his best to pretend to be interested, and to an extent he must have been, but even his attention span had only stretched so far.

But maybe that had just been another act, and the racer _had_ grasped more than the absolute basics of what passed for sub-atomic and quantum physics in this place. It was just one of many things to…hopefully? Hopefully _not?_ be discovered soon.

Surge ended these musings as his scans finished priming their charge. The grid's connections altered in response to them, and the selected pathways opened. To anyone watching, all of this would have been undertaken in an instant, but in the world of faster than light speeds these prep works were undertaken in a controlled and almost leisurely manner.

_Well leisurely isn't the right word to use of course, since this is hardly a day out with a picnic and a stroll by the river. This work has to be done quickly but also thoroughly and, since I know what's about to happen next, this actually __**is**__ as close to a holiday I'll be getting in a while._

…_and what an uplifting thought that is._

Surge finally integrated fully to the main grid and, just as he could have sworn he saw a flicker behind the tube, the sensors reached full power and shot forward towards the threads representing the remote barrier enclosure. They struck like metal tipped arrows against glass, and he gasped as they pierced their targets and sent a stream of information back to him.

He felt a stab of warning as his internal power supply began to drain at an alarming rate, but he gritted his teeth and ignored it and continued firing.

_Radar _ results obtained_? _negative_100% _

_Infra- red _ results obtained_?_ negative _100% _

_X-ray _ results obtained_? _ negative _100% _

_Ultrasound_ results obtained_? _ negative _100%_

_Sonar _ results obtained_? _ negative _100%_

_Magnetic Resonance Imaging ___ results obtained_? _ negative _100%_

_Network firewall _ outside infections detected_?__ _ negative _100%_

_Anti-virus removal algorithm _ infections detained_?_ results obtained_? _ negative _100%_

_Sandbox __security instrument _ unverified code and/or programs identified___? _ negative _100% _

__results obtained_? _negative_100%_

__negative_100%_

_**!_Internal Power Supply remaining…38%!**_

__negative_100%_

____**negative**_

____**100%**_

__results obtained_? __

…_Two minutes and thirty eight seconds left…_

With a punch to his stomach that left him winded and light-headed, Surge brutally cut off the stream of results mid-flow before they continued to repeat themselves. He disconnected himself sharply from the main grid, as the pulsing green data roads were suddenly replaced by the dull colours and low definition shapes of the 'real' world.

His head hurt and his hands felt like they'd been plunged into a bucket of needles. His internal power supply would soon only be a quarter full, and what energy he had left was being diverted from his extremities to power his vital internal functions. If his supply fell much further, he'd loose all functionality in his arms and legs and even the power of speech, as his body gave what energy was left to what represented his brain and heart and abandoned everything else.

_Well maybe losing the power of speech wouldn't be __**too**__ bad, since you're not going to have anything good to say to them soon._

He pushed all that unpleasantness to one side, and instead focused on the more pressing problem of negative 100%. That miserable result meant that nothing had been detected by any of his scans. It meant that there was no object in the force field tube and no-_one_ in the force field tube.

It meant that it was empty.

It meant that Taffyta had escaped from the remote barrier enclosure, which should have been impossible.

It was impossible and unplanned for and promised so many catastrophes that he should have been sick at the thought of only half of them.

So why wasn't he panicking? Or feeling crushed by inevitable defeat? Or feeling tempted to pretend it didn't exist and simply run away again?

…why didn't he feel _bothered _by it?

* * *

**SUGAR RUSH – 6 HOURS AGO**

Taffyta hurtled up the stairs and tore into the throne room before Vanellope could catch up with her. The fear that the President would suddenly glitch and appear in front of her was pushed to one side, as Taffyta ran straight for the drapes and the hidden room behind it.

She took deep breaths to steady herself and calm her heart, which she knew wasn't pounding painfully hard as a result of her sprint up the stairs.

The pulsing blue cables lining the walls of the entrance tunnel seemed to direct her onward, and as she followed them she looked up and saw him. He was standing in front of the locked code room door, and walked slowly forward to meet her.

Taffyta pulled the cube out of her pocket and held it out to him.

With a disdainful look at the smeared blood on it he gingerly took hold of a clean area, and pulled it abruptly out of Taffyta's grasp.

'Ow!' Taffyta started at the sharp pain of the sudden release, and winced as she straightened her hand. 'That hurt!'

'…if that's the limit of your endurance, this might not be a good idea after all.'

'It's _not_ my limit! You don't _know_ my limit, no-one does. And besides, we haven't got time to change the idea now.'

'No, we don't. But…'

'But what?'

'…but there is time to change the _person_.'

'_Taffyta!' _Vanellope's yell made Taffyta jump, and she looked back nervously.

'Are you _quite_ sure you can do this?'

Taffyta whipped her head back around and glared. 'Yes I can do this. Now hurry it up cough drop, I've got to go.'

Sour Bill regarded her balefully. With his other hand he then passed her a tablet computer and a flat grey rectangle. Taffyta put the computer in her jacket pocket, and raised the rectangle up to her eyes.

'I trust you still remember when to activate it?'

Taffyta scowled at him. 'Yes I remember.'

'And do you also remember what to do when they catch you?'

'_Yes_. I'm not a _moron_ you know.'

Sour Bill raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Taffyta lifted her hat up, placed the rectangle in her hair, and then carefully covered it back up. 'When they finally decide to leave me alone in that forcefield tube, I'll be ready.'

She stood up straight, and flexed her injured hand again.

This time she did it twice, and this time she didn't wince.

'…I'll know _exactly_ what to do.'

Sour Bill continued to look unimpressed. 'Let's get this over with.'

Taffyta made to turn back around but then abruptly froze. It was as if her legs had finally registered where their next destination was, and had sharply thrown on the brakes to stop her. She swallowed, and felt her heart thump painfully against her chest. It thumped almost accusingly, as it too began a counter-defence against the thoughts in her head.

Sensing her resolve begin to waver Sour Bill spoke up. 'I understand that this isn't easy. _Believe _me I do, but it will be worth it.'

Taffyta breathed in deeply and looked squarely into his dark green eyes. '_Will _it?' Her question was asked with force, and the desperate passion behind it pierced Bill's own shield before he knew it.

'It has to be. We've sacrificed enough for this Taffyta, and come too far to turn back now and…and we do deserve it, don't…?'

'_Taffyta!'_

Bill blinked and closed off those buried doubts immediately, as Taffyta did a small jump at the sound of Vanellope's voice. A voice which seemed louder and closer this time, and definitely more irritated than concerned.

Sour Bill tilted his head, and a smirk began to form on his face. 'Your President's summoning you Ms. Muttonfudge. Better jump to it.'

Taffyta gave Sour Bill one last scornful look, before she finally turned and strode back down the short tunnel. She reached the drapes and peeked out behind one.

Vanellope had her back to the code room, and Taffyta knew this opportunity might not come along again. Before she could think too much about it, she slipped out from behind the curtains and edged around the room to duck down behind a chair.

'Taffyta!' Vanellope yelled again. 'Where have you gone? Where are you? Oh you better tell me what you're doing, or-'

'Gotcha!' Taffyta shrieked as she jumped up to reveal herself. She saw Vanellope glitch in shock, and felt her stomach churn.

'What are you playing at?' Vanellope demanded angrily.

Taffyta forced herself to grin, and made the effort to spread her empty hands wide in the universal gesture of innocence. 'Well more like you got me! I _was_ playing, and you found me!'

But Vanellope wasn't convinced, and Taffyta saw her frown in puzzlement. 'What? You're talking crazy Taffy, and-'

_Oh no_, Taffyta thought in panic, as she saw Vanellope's gaze drift onto her injured hand.

'Is that _blood_ on your hand?'

Taffyta thrust her hand back into her pocket, and found herself wincing again. Not from the pain, but at herself. If she _was_ going to do all of this, then she needed to do it properly. There couldn't be any more careless mistakes.

'That? Oh, that's nothing – just strawberry icing from…from earlier.' Idiot. They'd been nowhere near any icing, and it was clear Vanellope didn't believe her. But it was too late to worry about that now, because she had to go.

In a nervous jerk of a walk she moved towards the exit, and tried to make a joke of things 'Try and catch me this time, _Princess_ Vanellope!' And before she knew why she'd done it, she'd looked back towards the drapes and where the code room and Sour Bill were waiting.

She knew that Vanellope would follow her instead of investigating it, and that was definitely what she wanted. Yes, definitely.

She definitely didn't want Vanellope to open the curtains and discover everything that had been planned, and she most _definitely_ didn't want Vanellope to stop her before she could put it all into motion.

Taffyta ran back down the stairs, and as she heard Vanellope begin to chase her she felt her heart sink.

_Must be this sudden run down the stairs. _

Taffyta put these thoughts out of her mind as soon as she reached the ground. She took half a second to orientate herself, and reminded herself of what she had to do next.

There were actually quite a few things she needed to complete before Vanellope activated the engine, and before she herself activated a few choice devices.

There were still quite a few people to meet with and speak to before her President's precious birthday could _really_ begin.

Taffyta took a deep breath and focused on her next destination. It wasn't that far, and easy enough to get into.

Better get going then.

* * *

**GAME CENTRAL STATION - PRESENT TIME**

A roar of anger and an even louder obscenity announced the imminent arrival of Ralph and Calhoun at the barrier enclosure.

Surge ignored them and kept his attention focused on what was in front of him and what _wasn't_ in front of him. He thought he saw another ghost of a shape behind the glass as Calhoun finally reached him, but when she skidded to a stop beside him there was nothing.

…_you're probably right and it probably is, but you have to make sure. _

_You have to make sure and not mess up and Programmers help you not actually __**miss**_**. **

'She's gone! I don't believe this! She's _gone_, actually _gone_!' Ralph stomped briskly around the tube and peered intently into it. He circled it several times before stopping in defeat and then, with a sudden roar, he stamped a foot and punched the ground with one huge fist. With the fingers of the other he took turns to point at Surge and Calhoun.

'You said nothing could ever get out of this barrier! _Nothing_! But look at it now! All nice and empty and definitely _not _full of someone who wants to bring back someone _else _who tried to kill us! Fantastic work guys, absolutely _fantastic_!'

Ralph pulled his arm out of the ground and angrily shook it free of glass, tile and wire.

Surge sighed. He knew the Wrecker had every right to be angry, but that was no excuse for smashing holes everywhere he felt like it. 'Please stop destroying bits of the grid Ralph. You do… _realise_ you're also essentially punching a hole through some part of _me, _don't you? I'd appreciate it if you stopped it now, because what you're doing simply makes a mess, achieves nothing and is, to be blunt, becoming an irritating inconvenience.'

Ralph gaped at him. 'An incon..? Ah man you are not serious, and you did _not_ just-'

'Why isn't she here?' Calhoun interjected before Ralph could work himself up even more. She looked at Surge in an almost perfectly balanced combination of concern and exasperation. 'And why are _you _still here? If she's gone then we need to split up and her find her.'

Surge looked at Calhoun. 'I didn't say she was gone.'

'_What_?'

'Regular eyesight is one of the least accurate methods of identifying something you know. There have been many studies about that undesirable reality, particularly in the area of witnesses identifying suspects and recollecting what they perceived to be a crime, which is very interesting indeed, but I digress. Just because you can't _see_ something doesn't mean it isn't there.'

Calhoun opened her eyes deliberately wide. 'My eyes are the best in this arcade, and they can't see _anything_ behind the enclosure. And I know your scans didn't detect anything, or else you'd be doing something about it instead of just standing here giving us lectures. So quit yapping and tell us what you're going to do about it.'

Surge titled his head in acceptance of that conclusion. 'Yes it's true that my scans didn't find anything, but they're not perfect either. Shocking, I know. But what usually is right, even in the face of overwhelming contradictions, is what you feel by instinct. As a solider surely you can understand that?'

Calhoun fell silent.

'But there _is _something I still need to check, and I need your help to do it. Can you move backwards until you're in line with the…well with the perfectly justified hole Ralph just created in my Station's floor.'

Calhoun remained silent and regarded him in calculation.

'Please. We are running out of so much time here.'

Although she was clearly not convinced and not entirely comfortable with it, Calhoun did as he requested.

'Thank you.'

'How can you be so calm about this?' Ralph burst out in sheer incredulity. 'You're just _standing_ there and not doing _anything_ while that strawberry coated traitor could be anywhere!'

Surge ignored him and concentrated on what was in front of him. No movement at all could be seen behind the tube this time; not even a threat of a hint of one.

But he knew that the particles were still screaming.

'There. Is. Nothing. _There_!' Ralph said through gritted teeth, as he used a pointed finger to emphasise each word. 'Are you blind? Taffyta's somehow managed to escape from your _perfect _container and you're not doing anything! Well if you won't I _will_. I'm going to go look for her, and when I find her…' Ralph formed a circle with both hands and began to strangle mid-air.

'I am doing something Ralph,' Surge said in what he hoped was a calm and confident voice. He glanced at Ralph, and couldn't shake off the feeling that the Wrecker was picturing his hands around someone else's neck as well.

'And what's that then?' Ralph snapped. 'Walking? No, not even walking - you're _shuffling_.'

And indeed Surge was. He'd moved backwards from the tube to stand at exactly the same distance Calhoun was. He'd then started to move sideways away from her slowly, ensuing he kept a close watch on the tube and maintained the same distance away from it. As if they were hands on a clock, Calhoun remained at the two o'clock marker, while Surge ticked down to the six o'clock position.

'What are you doing?' Ralph demanded. He made as if to approach closer but saw Surge raise his left hand in command.

Surge turned his head to look at him. 'Please, just let me do this. This is the best thing Ralph, and I _do_ know what I'm doing here, I…just trust me.'

Ralph stopped walking, and considered him with an effort. 'She doesn't have much time left you know.'

Surge knew exactly which 'she' the Wrecker was referring to. 'She has two minutes and twenty nine seconds left.'

'Is that _all_?'

'I promise you that it's plenty.'

'…then stop wasting it and get a move on.'

Surge finally stopped moving, double checked his position and planted his feet firmly on the ground. He pushed his right leg down harder, and used it to make contact with the grid.

It was a slightly disconcerting feeling to have only the right hand side of his body connected to it, but it wasn't unpleasant. With his left eye he observed the arcade as usual, but with his right eye he saw shifting neon green grid lines. They were suspended in pitch black, and they thrummed with power. The experience was…interesting.

No, that was far too bland. He could think of a much better word than that. It was… well an accurate adjective would have to wait, because the packets of code he'd been searching for had been located. The packets numbered into their hundreds of thousands, and were scattered widely. But with a simple command they were carefully collected, and as they were extracted from the grid they emerged into the visible spectrum. For the briefest of instances they were nothing but a shimmering cloud of multi-coloured pixels, but in the next they were ordered into alignment. They shuddered and merged and re-created the object they had originally been.

Like a shutter going down the green lines vanished, and Surge's vision returned to a uniform one. He shifted his weight and disconnected from the grid. He was now holding the object in his right hand and, as he began to raise it, he allowed himself to feel a mild surprise at its weight. It was heavier than he had anticipated, but he was oddly comforted by that. He continued raising it until it was at the correct level, and saw that Calhoun's eyes had widened in shocked recognition.

Well she did have the right to be surprised, since it was her earlier confiscated gun he was now holding.

Surge smiled grimly, and hardened his stance and made adjustments to his aim at the centre of the barrier enclosure. A touch upwards, a fraction to the side, take into account the recoil and…yes…there.

_Perfect._

'Don't move,' he ordered Calhoun in a low voice. The Sergeant didn't move a muscle, but whether that was because she was still in shock or because she'd actually chosen to instantly obey him, Surge didn't know. He suspected the former, but it didn't really matter.

Calhoun blinked, and her features began to shift. Her eyes narrowed and her head tilted in question. 'Can a bullet _really_ get past the barrier?'

'Of _course_ it can't,' Surge breathed out in response as, in one fluid motion, he locked eyes with Calhoun, moved his outstretched arm sharply to the right, flicked the gun's safety catch off and shot her directly in the heart.


	10. Deception

AN: Standard Disclaimer – this chapter ended up being longer than I'd planned. Surge likes to ramble, especially after doing what he just did in the last chapter.

To TobiKomi – Thank you very much for your review! The majority of Surge's screen time makes him out to bland and boring and not very interested in anything that's happening, so it's been great fun to try and give him a personality, since there are so many possibilities you can give to him. But with so little canon to go on it can be difficult at times. All the technobabble is one of my writing indulgences, but I'm glad it makes sense in the context of Surge's character. Most of it is technically accurate, but in the context of this story a lot of it is not very realistic at all. But then again this is an arcade where the characters come to life, so I like to think the science and laws of physics for it are different as well!

To everyone who's still reading this I still thank you, and to those who have spent their time reviewing it, I thank you very much! Your words are always very much appreciated.

* * *

**10. Deception**

**GAME CENTRAL STATION – PRESENT TIME**

Before Calhoun's body had the chance to hit the ground, Surge was moving towards her.

He kept the gun trained on her chest in case he needed to shoot her again, but a loud crack told him it wouldn't be necessary. Almost immediately after this sound, several others joined it: Calhoun landed on her back in a thump, Ralph yelled, there was a sizzle, a crack, _another_ crack like a whip against glass, and then finally a loud scream erupted from the debris of it all.

The shriek was high pitched and sudden and fearful, and threatened to go on for quite a while.

_Good thing you haven't got one-hundred percent hearing right about now_.

_Well obviously it's not __**good**__ that you don't, since you haven't got much internal power left, and reduced hearing is hardly something to brag about. But it doesn't hurt to look on the positive side, right? Glass half-full and all that? _

…_clutching at straws my friend. Time to let them go or hold onto them properly. Not that that's part of the saying, but still._

Surge slowly let his outstretched arm relax a bit and began to lower it, but he didn't reduce his grip on the gun. He still didn't look anywhere but into Calhoun's eyes, and wondered if he should have done it in the way he just had.

_Well it's too late for second thoughts now, because you've just done it. It's done, and now you've got the job of explaining yourself to look forward to._

At the same time some more things happened almost simultaneously: Ralph stepped forward and punched the barrier enclosure, which caused the tube to shake and shimmer but didn't break it. The Wrecker started shouting, and despite it all Surge couldn't help but feel a small upswell of pride that it continued to hold. They really had made it well, and even now it could withstand the wrath of Ralph. And to think that so many people had actually _doubted_ that it was unbreakable, and was just for show, and wondered why he hadn't spent all that time on something _useful_ like alternating the colour of the digital letters over the plugs that spelt out each game's name, because oh yes, what a pressing priority that was, a fantastic use of his time, excellent use of resources, just-

A tiny fraction of a second after Ralph's attack the scream's pitch altered, and became even higher and shriller.

Very briefly, before they returned to Calhoun, Surge allowed his eyes to flicker to the left just to confirm it all. And what he saw was what he had expected, and planned for, and _almost_ fully hoped for, because it still didn't give him any great joy to see her like that. Relief, yes, but not satisfaction.

…well maybe a _little_ bit of satisfaction, but nothing approaching terrible guilt trip levels.

What he'd seen was Taffyta on her feet, firmly pressing back against the barrier as far as she could go, which wasn't very far at all. Her arms were down by her sides, her palms splayed against the tube, her face was drained of colour and it was rigid with fear. Her wide eyes were staring unblinking at Ralph, and her mouth continued to issue a peal of a scream that _still_ hadn't stopped.

_An angry Ralph does tend to do that to most people, and- wait; she started screaming __**before**__ he smashed his fist into the tube, when the cracks sounded, and the entire enclosure…_

…_ahh, so she __**hadn't**__ planned for this to happen. The conceal, yes, but not the reveal. _

Feeling quite a bit better for this confirmation of his actions (not that he'd needed outsidecorroboration of course, since he was fully – well mainly – confident of his plan in the first place; it's just that if someone or some_thing_ confirms your actions you shouldn't ignore it, as that would be rude) Surge allowed his gun wielding arm to lower fully.

Still looking at Calhoun, he tried to form a sympathetic smile to convey his apologies, regret, accomplishment and an unspoken explanation that this really had been necessary, and there was nothing to worry about, it wasn't how it looked, and I'll explain everything which I'm sure you'll quickly accept because you're a reasonable person, and then we can put this whole thing behind us and never mention it again except in the future, when this is all over and we're talking calmly and reasonably and remembering what a good job I'd done.

But that was quite ambitious, and he suspected that he'd done nothing but grimace at her.

Or, worse, actually _smirked_ at her.

_That would be just typical, and all I need right about now. _

'Sorry Sergeant, I hope-' he began, but was almost immediately interrupted as Calhoun sprang to her feet and advanced on him in a state that was most definitely _not_ one of understanding acceptance. Her face was a thunderstorm of anger, and it was doing an almost perfect job of covering the layers of fright and confusion and helplessness that were just about visible. And…was there a touch of disappointment in there? She was also no doubt annoyed with herself that her reactions hadn't been as quick as his had been, when he'd swung the gun around and she would have heard the safety catch snick off, and that she'd then found herself lying on the ground for more than a full second after she'd been hit.

Calhoun towered above him and, with a snarl, bent down and extended a pointed index finger at him. Surge took a step back and really hoped she wasn't about to start poking him again.

She took a deep breath, narrowed her eyes and let rip. 'I don't know what the _hell _that was about, but you better start telling me right _now _what the-'

Surge took another step back and let her tidal wave of insults and obscenities wash over him. The Sergeant really did have an impressively rich vocabulary, but he was familiar with all that she was saying, thanks to his studying of her game's code and her own personal backstory and-

Oh, that was a new one. He hadn't heard _that_ term before, or- _or _that one, which she'd just yelled in quick succession to emphasise an earlier point.

_Well, that doesn't sound pleasant. Or hygienic. Or even very plausible, if you think about it carefully._

…_which is not something I particularly want to do…_

Attempting to comfort himself with the thought that you learn something new every day, Surge let her continue to vent. He glanced over to the barrier enclosure again, and realised that Taffyta had stopped screaming. As well as Ralph she still had her mouth open, but this time in a different kind of shock, as she listened to Calhoun promise to do things to him that would have put her in prison. If anyone had ever been programmed with the nerve to enforce such a sentence, of course. Or had their programming corrupted or damaged, and were stupid enough to actually try and send her to jail, not that the arcade even had a jail to begin with, but someone with _that_ amount of damaged code would have to be examined by him, and he'd most likely have to investigate their code room, and oh, we're back looking at the konami code again.

_One problem at a time here. _

Surge looked at Ralph, but the Wrecker's attention was likewise focused on Calhoun. With a spike of fear, Surge realised that _this_ would be the perfect distraction for Taffyta to take advantage of. He began to prime all his scans again, even though he was almost certain he wouldn't need them, and despite how much power it would cost him.

Just as extra confirmation, and something to do other than imagine himself in the scenarios Calhoun was describing for him, Surge activated a couple of minor tests and scanned the barrier enclosure quickly but thoroughly. It was still holding, and apart from the device he'd suspected, there was nothing else Taffyta was hiding. Well to be abso_lutely_ sure, he'd have to undertake more than just a few very detailed diagnostics, but he didn't have the power to do so. Or the time. Or even the inclination right about now, because he was actually feeling pretty tired and- no, not tired, it was more on the border of exhaustion. And besides, how many scans and checks did he _really_ have to undertake?

He was confident of his own abilities, and shouldn't really have to keep seeking re-assurance of them. But maybe he wasn't as confident as he liked to think. Or maybe it was just nice to receive confirmation of a job you personally think has been undertaken well, especially when you actually put some time and thought and effort into it, as opposed to those good jobs you do that just _happen_ to turn out well, which are nice and welcome of course, but not as satisfying as the ones you've made a conscious effort to undertake well. Or maybe he was just suffering from OCD, and hadn't considered or admitted the possibility before, and the power drain was exacerbating these symptoms, and-

'-and _that's_ what will happen if you ever do that again, understand?' Calhoun finally concluded, as she straightened up and took another deep breath. She clenched her fists at her sides, and continued to glare down at Surge.

Almost relieved at the interruption, Surge nodded quickly. 'Oh, yes, definitely. Won't ever happen again. Sergeant, listen, we-'

'Are you _deaf?'_ Calhoun snapped fiercely. 'Have you even been _listening_ to a word I've just said?'

Surge sighed. 'Unfortunately yes, I have, and without hesitation I can say that I'm not overly impressed with your invective, or the detailed selection of future punishments you've so generously decided to describe. Concerned, yes, and more than slightly distressed at the thought of them, but forgive me if I'm not about to collapse and curl into a ball and beg you for forgiveness. We don't have the time to-'

'Oh you-'

'_Please_. I know you're angry but just stop shouting and give me a chance to explain. There will be time for that later. No doubt you'll _make_ time for that later, but- I'm sorry. If there was any other way, I would have taken it.'

…_oh now that's not completely true, and you know it's not._

Putting _that_ thought quickly out of his mind, Surge checked the countdown clock. 'Vanellope has two minutes and twenty seconds left. If you could give your yelling a break for at least _that_ long, I'm sure she'd appreciate it.'

Calhoun's unblinking glare at him didn't flicker, but she did make a visible effort to bite back another insult. Instead she crossed her arms roughly across her chest but then, as if the action had given her an electric shock, she jerked them away and looked down at her front. She brought a hand up to her heart and rubbed a thumb across it, searching for the bullet hole.

But there was no hole.

She felt the slightly protruding edge of the bullet, which had been flattened by the impact, and her eyes went wide again. She looked up sharply at Surge, and used the same hand to lightly cover the area, as if to protect it from being attacked again.

Her eyes narrowed and her mouth was a thin angry line. 'Your one chance to explain starts _now_.'

Surge swallowed and, yet again, decided that the best thing to do was just to say it straight and get it over with. And definitely _not_ to think too much about it all. To bite the bullet as it were, especially since, although there was no biting, this situation _did_ involve a bullet, and-

'There are several layers of high density wafers on your chest, just above the armour,' Surge told her quickly. 'In fact some of them have even begun to actually embed themselves _into_ the armour, which is quite impressive. Well no not impressive as such, even though it actually _is_, since that suggests a level of adaptation I wasn't sure could be applicable to those lines of code, but then again many evolutionary advancements resulted from nothing more than random mutations in codes and- remember what I said earlier on about the temperature control boxes? That they'd been hijacked? Well the same thing's happened to you.'

Calhoun's features shifted again, and the hand that was covering her heart slowly and tightly began to form a protective fist. 'What are you talking about? What-'

'Those wafers on you, they're…they're like the ones above our heads on the boxes – they're transparent and act almost like a mirror to reflect and relay a signal back somewhere. Except the ones on you are stronger, denser and more powerful. They had to have been, in order to allow the visual disruption to be projected unhindered.'

'Visual _what?_'

Surge again looked over to Taffyta, who met his eyes briefly before looking away as if scalded by them.

'Our friend Ms Muttonfudge has an activation device hidden on her,' he continued without looking away from her. 'Something…low key and low powered, since it didn't set off any alarms when she exited Sugar Rush. The device created, in basic and unscientific terms, an invisibility curtain. The barrier enclosure was still there, operating as normal, but…there was also a tube within that tube, which was see-through. It rendered her invisible and made it _appear_ that she had disappeared.'

Surge followed the line of the enclosure all the way up to the ceiling, paused, and ran his gaze all the way back down again.

'But she of course she hadn't disappeared or escaped – she was still there, just… standing and waiting and hoping it would all work out as planned, and we'd fall for it and… and rush off to find her, and leave her alone, and then…'

_Yes, and what then? Why would she want to be left alone?_

'Why would she want to be left alone?' Ralph demanded, as he echoed Surge's thoughts.

'Hold up Wreck-It,' Calhoun interrupted, as she treated Ralph to a scowl. 'Tell your mouth to wait its turn, because my questions come first. How,' she began, as she roughly took one glove off and gave Surge another dark look loaded with meaning, 'did you know about this? And why,' she continued, as she used a thumbnail to dig the bullet out of her chest, 'did you just _shoot _me instead of doing the sensible and _normal_ thing of simply _telling_ me about it so that _I_ could have deactivated this…_thing?'_

Calhoun spat the last word out, as she finally prised the bullet out and gave the compressed metal a filthy look. 'And why _my _gun? You so far behind the times you can't deactivate it any other way? In need of an upgrade old man? 'Cause I've got some scientists in my game…'

Calhoun broke off and, with one final look of disgust at the bullet, threw it hard at the barrier enclosure.

Taffyta shrieked and cowered, as it bounced harmlessly off. It flew through the air and pinged onto the floor, and easily took its place amongst the other broken pieces littering it.

Surge followed the bullet's trajectory, and watched it spin onto the ground and skid to a halt.

Oh there were so many things he could say in response to all of that, but he didn't. She had the right to be angry and to release it in his direction, but…but there was a limit to it, and she'd nearly used up the credit she'd…earned? Been generously given by him? Was naturally allowed to have, since common sense and decency would have afforded anyone in a similar situation a similar amount, no questions asked?

Instead he stood up straight, formed his free hand into a loose fist and met her angry look with a controlled one. 'Instinct. Or as close to instinct that I've been…well programmed with, and have developed over time. The particles that form the barrier were being affected by the transmitter device that Taffyta activated, and they…well they didn't like it. Odd as that sounds, they didn't – the signal coming out of it passed through them to make contact with the compressed wafers you carried. Well more like _crashed_ through them, which annoyed them something rotten. _No_-one likes to be rudely barged out of the way when all they're doing is minding their own business and getting on with their job you know.'

Calhoun ran a hand carefully over her chest, and soon found the outline of the wafer layers. With a thumb and a forefinger she gripped the edges of it and pulled something invisible slowly away. With a look of horrified disgust, she watched a long strand of what resembled glue tether something to the armour it had been stuck to. With a sharp pull she snapped the strand and, in response to the broken contact, a small rectangle stuttered into visibility.

It was feather light, smoothed at the edges, and was a dull ash grey colour. It was far smaller than she'd been expecting, and was the approximate length, width and depth as the first joint of her thumb.

But what really made her eyes widen was that the bullet had hit it dead centre, consuming most of it, and there was barely a millimetre on either side to spare.

The shot had been perfect, and if it had hit just a fraction in any other direction it would have…

Resisting the temptation to drop it on the floor and crush it under her boot, Calhoun carefully held onto it and looked back at Surge. Her expression wasn't so disgusted or angry any more. It was…curious. Well, more curious than anything else.

She raised her eyebrows, and silently prompted him to continue.

Surge suppressed a…sigh? A slump of relief? A sting of irritation and an ache of disappointment that she hadn't commented on his marksmanship? She probably just assumed he'd been programmed with perfect coordination, and would always hit his targets perfectly, and he didn't actually have to plan it and calculate it and feel sick with fear as he pulled the trigger and hoped his aim was right and he didn't end up killing her.

Whatever it was, he pushed it back down and added it to the list of things not to think too much about.

'I reached the enclosure first, before you and Ralph remember, and…and I could have sworn I'd seen a shape move behind it, but it was dim. Then you got closer and that possible shape looked even weaker. In fact it didn't look like it was there at all. Then you were right up next to it, and there was nothing to be seen at all.'

Unlike just before, when they'd thought about Sour Bill and the konami code, this time Calhoun wasn't on the same track of thought as he was. She continued to look at him, and he pressed on with his explanation.

'Her device wasn't powerful enough to trick and disrupt the barrier enclosure by itself for very long; she needed a source _outside_ of the enclosure to receive the signal from the device, add additional power to it, and then send it _back_ to the device to strengthen and sustain the invisibility curtain. All that clear? Not transparent clear like the barrier, but-'

_Oh don't start making stupid jokes or comments now. _

'Taffyta predicted that if we ever suspected that she had escaped, you wouldn't be one to hold back. You'd race up to the barrier and investigate it, and the closer you got to her the closer the wafer reflectors would be as well. The closer they were to the device, the more power they could send back in a shorter amount of time. More power, more invisibility.'

_There, surely that was a succinct explanation for them? Not too many long and complicated and scary sounding words which would only have them complaining, and me wasting time trying to dumb them down and explain it all again? _

…_well that's not fair, because it's not dumbing down something if you simplify the words you use. The information would remain the same, because it's just the vocabulary that changes. It's quite a skill to master really, not to mention__** how**__ you deliver your words, what with tone and pitch and body language, and- and if someone looks at you the way Sergeant Calhoun is looking at you right now, it means they're still not happy with what you've said, and you have to…change it? Repeat it? Ah, no, not those; it means you have to __**add **__to it. They're still not convinced or satisfied, and want yet more of an explanation. _

_Better keep talking then._

'Taffyta also counted on us not just staying around her forever, because she heard us talking and knew we'd have to go and investigate the engine, and the main generator, and whatever's happening with Turbo, and do something to help save Vanellope, which I haven't forgotten that we _still_ need to do by the way.'

Calhoun considered this. 'But when all three of us walked away she didn't _need_ to become invisible. We were doing what she wanted and leaving her alone. She knew we were going out of sight into the backup outlet, and wouldn't be in the main Station here.'

Surge shrugged. 'Maybe she just wanted to be extra careful. After all this planning for…well whatever it's for, she wouldn't want to take any unnecessary risks to ruin it. In case she was ever left alone in the tube, and we weren't looking at her for a second, she'd activate it. She probably gambled that we were so confident of the enclosure holding we'd feel safe leaving her in it alone. And she was right.'

'But why did she _want_ to be left alone?' Calhoun still wasn't fully happy with all the answers so far, and she was getting angry again. 'And why did she put the transmitter on _me?_'

Surge looked at Calhoun carefully. 'She…must have come into close physical contact with you. You were in Sugar Rush along with her, weren't you? Ralph came out of the game first, then Vanellope, then you, then her. Maybe…maybe you weren't even her fist choice. Perhaps she tried and failed with Ralph, or couldn't get to him, or figured that Vanellope's glitching would be too much of a danger to it working properly, or…'

_Or perhaps she didn't choose Vanellope because what she really wanted with her happened, when the President connected that circuit board of hers. Which I still need to find out more about, I know. I think Calhoun had it last, when she grabbed it out of her hands but then dropped it, so it's around here somewhere, and where did Vanellope __**get**__ that circuit board from? She also created a hologram of an engine and somehow moved the __**real **__engine out of the game, which are yet more things I need to think about, but maybe now isn't the best time to think about it because-_

…_. would Taffyta __**really**__ want Vanellope to get hurt? Would she really want her __**killed**__**?** Did she actually plan any of that that? Did she plan it with Sour Bill? Or was that consequence something she had no knowledge about at all?_

…_but it's best not to share these thoughts with them just yet, particularly without any proof. There are enough holes in my Station as it is, and enough bullets have been fired for one day. _

Instead Surge addressed Calhoun with 'If I can ask _you_ a question, what _were_ you doing in Sugar Rush? Out for a race? Or a stroll in the sun? Or trying to help plan the birthday race you didn't actually _want_ to happen? Did that, oh I don't know, perhaps confuse and upset Taffyta as much as it did Vanellope, and she took it out on you?'

To her credit Calhoun allowed a flash of guilt to show on her face, but she subdued it quickly. 'It's not my fault that strawberry wearing brat stuck this on me! I didn't see her at all right up until the last minute, just before we were about to leave the game, when she raced up and-oh._ Oh!_ Oh that little rotten…' Calhoun broke off and stormed up to the enclosure, glaring in at the girl contained in there.

'I know how that putrid piece of saccharine infected fruit put this on me! It was when she-'

But before Calhoun could finish, she was distracted by a flashing blue light and a harsh crackling sound.

'What the-' Ralph began, as his attention was also taken away by the sight.

It lasted less than a second, but Surge felt himself flicker and then flash, as the bonds between his particles momentarily collapsed and erased his physical form. But almost immediately they then tightened and strengthened and, in a stutter powered by a sputtering hiss of electricity, he re-formed.

The dark hexagon in his monitoring screen flashed up, and warned him that the power was running low and his atoms were starting to destabilise.

_**!_Internal Power Supply remaining…21%!**_

_Fantastic. All those scans and the searching of the grid took more out of me than I thought. _

Calhoun raked Surge with her eyes briskly but thoroughly, like she was scanning a piece of terrain or equipment to determine how safe and effective it was. Coming to the conclusion that he'd returned to how he always looked and wasn't about to disappear or explode, she nodded.

'Don't stop now lightning bolt – I still don't know why you didn't just _tell_ me I was carrying a device that needed destroying.'

_Lighting bolt, that's just lovely that is. Never mind that I'm beginning to struggle to exist, oh no – that slight inconvenience can't __**possibly**__ get in the way of you sharing your creative nicknames with us, can it? I'll just stand here and wait for you to finish, shall I? Maybe run all the way down to 1%, just to give you something __**else**__ to look at, and motivate yet __**another**__ witty description that you can then bandy about without giving any thought __**what**__soever as to what inspired it in the first place. _

But instead of snapping back, Surge just responded blandly with 'If I'd just told you my suspicions and carefully explained all of what I just have, it could have given Taffyta the chance to do something else with the device. Deactivate it, or…activate something else. I don't know. I didn't want to make her suspicious.'

'And pointing a _gun_ straight at her for a good while didn't grab her attention at all, did it? That subtle action couldn't _possibly_ have given her any cause for concern, could it? What if she took _that_ time to do something to the device, huh? Didn't think about _that_ while you were playing with your big boy gun, did you?'

Surge sighed. O_h look - we've travelled straight back from professional curiosity to the home land of macho anger before you can blink an eye. _

'Of course I thought about that. And it is a possibility – she _might_ have done something else during that time. It's unlikely, but possible. And…and on balance it was the best choice to take.'

'What _balance_? You drew her attention to yourself and the barrier by waving a gun about like a wannabe cowboy, and risked the device doing something _else_ to the barrier!'

'…I did, yes.' Surge admitted quietly, and a trace of a sad smile formed on his face. 'But it took her attention away from _you_, didn't it? What if she'd done something to the wafers in your chest if I'd simply told you I suspected they were there? Again it would have been unlikely, but…without even looking at you I tried _not_ to give her any reason to suspect anything. Probably overestimating her abilities, given the gravity of the situation in that amount of time. And she is just a kid, and probably isn't working alone, and I highly doubt the wafers _could_ be remote detonated, because their fundamental structure is designed to _reflect_ signals, not absorb them completely, and the composition of their molecules are so densely compacted there wasn't any space _left_ for the circuitry needed to produce an exothermic reaction hot enough to-'

Surge broke off and drew a pointless breath, as he worked up the nerve to look her straight in the eyes.

'That earlier shuffling I did wasn't just for a spot of indulgent exercise you know; it gave me time to get into place while undertaking a low frequency block scan on you. Nothing detailed or too powerful in case _that_ set something off, but enough to give me the precise position of the wafer rectangle, and to convince me it wouldn't explode if I shot it. All that was a risk, yes, but…but some risks really are worth taking.'

Calhoun fell silent and looked away, as some of the anger and tension fell away from her face. Not all of it though – not even _most_ of it – but enough to give the impression that she'd accepted these words, and even been positively affected by them.

_Better make the most of this, as that's probably the closest she'll come to thanking you._

…_make the most of this? That's… terrible, just- just stop thinking like that. You don't __**know**__ what she might say when she calms down which, we all know, could take a while. Except we don't __**have**__ a while; we only have a couple of minutes. _

'And why use your gun?' Surge prompted, in an attempt to get this all over and done with as quickly as possible. Calhoun's quick curious glance back at him confirmed this was indeed something else she wanted to know, but couldn't for the moment bring herself to ask again.

'Several reasons. It was the last thing I'd confiscated and returned to the grid, which, well, meant that it was the closest thing to collect and put back together again. There wasn't much time to spare picking and choosing a personalised weapon you know.'

_Liar. You know you could have brought back- _

Surge swallowed and felt another localised headache begin to form. 'That gun of yours was hidden away, and all probability and logic would argue that Taffyta couldn't have tampered with it. It hadn't been out of your sight or even floating around in the grid, so she wouldn't have had the chance to do something to it.'

Calhoun shook her head, but not in dismissal. Her posture left no room for messing about with, but it was slightly more relaxed and open than it had been. As if she'd had a chance to release her anger and to hear answers to her questions, and had been reasonably mollified by both.

She looked down and concentrated on putting her glove back on, as she asked him '…any other reasons why you shot me with my own gun?'

_Yes._

'No. A fast bullet to the wafers disabled them nicely, as we all heard by the cracks and sizzles. The enclosure is still holding, and I can't detect any other hidden transmitters or signals. Or even any _other_ piece of equipment that should never have been constructed, let alone get past my attention and actually be _used_.'

Calhoun looked at him and nodded, and Surge felt a disproportionate amount of relief that she didn't then ask him _how_ the pieces of equipment had got past his attention or, more pressing, how and _why_ they had been constructed. But he didn't have any realistic expectations that she would ignore those questions for long. Instead she focused on a more pressing one. One which she, Ralph and indeed Surge himself were keen to know the answer to.

Maybe 'keen' wasn't the best word though – if there was a word that encompassed a mixture of curiosity, fear and anticipation, that would be the one to use. Surge roughly calculated the percentage of each of those three emotions he was feeling and, when he came up with the results, wished he'd gone more by logic than instinct in doing so.

Calhoun regarded Surge more intently, and her eyes began to narrow. '_Why_ did she want to be left alone?' She snapped her head to Taffyta, and repeated her question in a voice that promised terrible things if it wasn't answered correctly.

'_Why_ did you want us to leave? What in Programmer's name have you _still_ got planned for us?'

Taffyta looked away, and as Calhoun advanced to the tube Surge beat her to it.

He still held the gun in his right hand and, without knowing it, he gripped it tighter. He raised his left arm and, with the knuckles of that hand, rapped smartly against the barrier enclosure.

Taffyta flinched at the sound, and Surge stared at her as if he could send his own invisible beam to extract and dissemble and recreate her thoughts into something solid and dangerous; something tangible, and which could be used to strike right back at her if he had the terrible mind to so.

'That's _exactly_ what Ms. Muttonfudge and I are about to have a nice little chat about.'


	11. Negotiation

**AN: Standard Disclaimer – this one ended up **_**far**_** longer than I'd thought! In fact all of the upcoming chapters have, and didn't end up with the continuity that I'd originally planned for them. So I've renamed the previous chapter with a stand-alone name like this one, and will use individual names for upcoming chapters. (The last chapter's original name will still be used for a future one, but only when it's actually applicable)**

**As with all the technical terms I use, the brief description of parts of Calhoun's gun all genuinely exist, but are described in ways that are realistic only to the unique laws of science that this arcade no doubt follows! **

**And as always thank you for reading, and for any reviews/comments you many have :) **

* * *

**11. Negotiation**

'When you just said _I _am going to have a nice little chat with Taffyta, you did of course mean to say _all of us_, didn't you?'

Calhoun was right up close to the barrier enclosure, and kept her glare trained on Taffyta even as she addressed Surge. The tube was almost translucent, but the dust floating around the gloomily lit Station had covered it in a thin sheen of grit. Blurred shapes still reflected off of it, and showed her the flashing black and white blocks of Vanellope, who hadn't moved from where she'd collapsed. These outlines were punctuated by faint red blinks from the temperature control boxes, which were above their heads and formed a loose circle around the Station's ceiling. It gave Calhoun the impression that several laser markers from hesitantly held sniper guns were being sighted at the barrier, and that Taffyta was their reluctant target.

But amongst all of this, she immediately saw Surge's reflection half roll his eyes in response to her question. 'No, we are not _all_ going to talk with her. Only I am.'

Calhoun glared at Surge's reflected face. '_I'm_ the one trained in negotiations with hostiles here, not you.'

Surge's mirrored blue face nodded politely but firmly. 'But do you _really_ think referring to Ms. Muttonfudge here as a hostile will get her to open up to you? You look like you could murder her, and I'll bet what little power I have left that the wafers held in that tight looking fist of yours have already been crushed beyond repair.'

Calhoun's clenched fist immediately sprung open upon hearing that, and it was clear that the Sergeant hadn't realised she'd made it in the first place. The wafer rectangle had bent slightly, but was still intact.

Calhoun finally turned her head to look at Surge. 'Keep what little hair you have left on; your precious wafers are just fine.'

Still with an unblinking look at Taffyta, Surge shook his head. _Oh yes that's right, plenty of time to slip another few insults in there. And for someone so keen on unique technology, like those cursed ceramic tiles I still haven't forgotten about, I would have thought-_

'I'm not the only one thinkin' unpleasant thoughts about her though,' Calhoun justified roughly, with more than a touch of smug self-justification to her words. 'You grip that gun any harder, your hand'll turn into it.'

Surge glanced in faint surprise down at the gun in his right hand, and saw that his knuckles had turned white. _Well don't all those colours on my hands and arms look just lovely, with the white tension blotches and the __black criss-cross scorch marks that blend __almost seamlessly into a dying sludge of what used to be blue. Anything else happens I'll probably turn red or green or purple or maybe sport a bit of all the colours, given enough time. _

_Even though time is exactly what you don't have, stranger things have happened. _

Surge loosened his hold on the weapon and, as he did so, realised that despite his lack of power and all the work and trauma he'd put his body through, he could still feel the distinct stab of Vanellope's distress call under his skin.

_That will be with me to the end._

_Or until __**her**__ end. _

Surge took a step back and loosened his grip further, but left his finger resting on the trigger. He then tilted the gun backwards and let go of the handle altogether. Under its own weight the gun slipped but didn't fall, and was now left dangling on his finger, caught between the trigger and the trigger guard.

Calhoun stretched out her arm for it, but Surge shook his head and took another step back. 'Not a chance.'

And before Calhoun could open her mouth to complain or yell or complain _by _yelling, Surge began to rotate his finger and the gun spun with it. Like an expert gunslinger he spun the weapon faster and faster and, at the same time, with his other hand he put the safety catch back on, emptied the ammunition chamber of its magazine, dismantled the ejection port and removed the recoil spring plug. He then increased the spin's velocity for the final time, gripped the removed parts hard, connected briefly to the grid, and watched every part of the weapon pixelate, shimmer and then dissolve in a swirl of silver and blue.

'Woah! How did you do _that__?_' Ralph exclaimed, as his eyes lit up and his mouth fell open.

…_ah, so __**that's**__ what it looks like. _

Even Calhoun couldn't entirely hide how impressive she thought the act was, despite her excellent efforts to do so, as Surge wiped his hands together and felt the last few particles settle back into the grid.

_Typical. Never mind any of the __**genuinely**__ impressive things I've done to improve living conditions in the arcade over the years – they only became slack jawed with wonder when I do nothing but follow the basic laws of basic physics. _

Surge shrugged. 'It's nothing more than what I did last time.'

_Well now that's not strictly true, is it? There wasn't any need to twirl it about and dismantle it like you're at a Wild West demonstration; that little bit of flamboyance was just…well just for show. It was exaggerated but harmless and because why not? _

…_well because maybe it was to take their attention off of Taffyta for a second, to give the girl a chance to calm down so that I've at got at least a __**chance**__ of getting a response from her. And because it will reinforce the belief that I'm excellent with weapons and therefore competent with other things, even though I may not be, but there's no reason for them to dwell on that too much._

…_and because you're struggling along on 21%, and may never get the chance to do something like that again._

Before he knew it, Surge found himself launching into an explanation. He knew it wasn't the best time, but just a few seconds of not thinking about his imminent demise was too tempting to ignore. And Ralph _had_ asked him a direct question after all, and it would be rude not to reply.

'A gun here - an _anything_ here in the arcade - is just made of pixels, and pixels cannot be destroyed. Like in the outside world our players live in, everything there is made of matter, which also can't be destroyed. The- you still with me here?'

Surge broke off, as Ralph's face creased into a frown.

'Yeah…that I get,' the Wrecker replied slowly. 'But… stuff _does_ disappear though! Like that gun just now, or when you eat a piece of pie, or when I smash something into dust.'

'No.' Surge shook his head. 'Like matter, pixels can't be destroyed; they can only be rearranged. Ice can turn to water which can turn to steam, and pixels can be stacked or split to create a new item or level. Matter in the players' world that can't be seen goes into the surrounding physical environment or atmosphere, and will eventually contribute to the formation of something else. Pixels here in the arcade that can't be seen, like the gun just now, are sent to the arcade's grid to wait until they're needed again. And they don't just go to the main grid I usually connect to - this arcade alone has over fourteen billion sub-grids that store and recycle the finite number of pixels it contains.'

Surge felt a small smile form, probably as a result of discussing a familiar subject, but maybe it was because Ralph's face hadn't completely glazed over at his words.

'How else do you think Felix fixes things with his hammer, even outside of his own game? He doesn't _create _pixels to make things with – he simply instructs existing ones to rearrange themselves back into their original formation.'

Ralph shook his head. 'That all sounds… mad! In a good way mad though; not like in a _Turbo_ way mad or anything.' The Wrecker tutted. 'Why didn't you tell us any of this before?'

'But I _did!_' Surge also shook his head. 'Well I _tried_ to tell you about it. I tried to explain it to you _all_, but apparently watching the muscle heads from Street Fighter bash in the brains of the other muscle heads from Mortal Kombat was more appealing than learning about the roots of your own existence!'

'…what?'

Surge sighed, and felt his trace of a smile vanish. 'Remember the big conference I organised a few years ago? The one where I tried to explain the grid, and code, and how we're all made up of so many lines of fluctuating pixels and indestructible binary that can never be obliterated and so, in a sense, our individual components will always exist in one form or another and so we may actually live forever and never really die?'

'…'

Surge rolled his eyes. 'That large code meeting I suggested you all 'volunteer' to attend, in exchange for me allowing that inter-game fighting competition to take place afterwards?'

A light clicked on in Ralph's eyes, and he breathed in sharply in recollection. 'Oh yeah! _That_ meeting! Oh man, I remember falling asleep on someone's shoulder after only five minutes it was so bor- oh, oh, um, yeah, I think I…you know, it…it was good and all, but I, um, was, um…sick that day. Yeah, _really _sick. Like throwing up _everywhere_, it…really took it out of me.'

Ralph winced and rubbed the back of his head, as Surge folded his arms across his chest and looked at him deadpan. '…yes, there were a lot of people _really _sick that day. Must have been something in the air. No doubt a faulty extractor fan that I neglected to fix, or I how I just _allowed _a contagious narcoleptic computer virus with the ability to induce copious amounts of vomiting to run rampage without even _thinking_ of trying to stop it or-'

_Please just give your mouth a rest. And while you're at it, give Ralph a break too – it's hardly his fault you were a rubbish teacher. The information was there and it was __**fascinating**__, but how could anyone really pay attention to it and appreciate it when you did nothing but read it all out loud? And not just out loud in a 'normal' voice – it was out said in the same tone used for the exit and entrance surveys. You know, the boring, bland and utterly disinterested sounding one that gets you nothing but grief?_

_Honestly, you put more effort and feeling into telling people off or simply __**moaning**__ about things then you ever do when a topic people might __**actually **__be interested in comes up. Why is that? Nervous of what their reactions might be if they find out you've got an interest in something they can relate to? Or scared that they might actually__smile back and, Programmers forbid, attempt to engage you in a __**normal **__conversation that you've got no experience whatsoever in?_

_Why be frightened of possibly getting something you actually want? That it might not live up to expectations? Or that it might even __**exceed**__ them? _

Surge shook his head to clear these thoughts, and immediately wished he hadn't. The headache he already had was bad enough and, as if in further punishment, he could see his internal power supply clock _just_ about ready to finish counting down another percentage point to…wait for it…almost there…yes, _there_ we go…

_**!_Internal Power Supply remaining…20%!**_

Ralph was looking at him strangely, and he couldn't blame him. Surviving on a fifth full of back-up power wasn't doing Surge any good inside _or _out**. **His hands weren't the only things looking abnormal, as his overall blue colour was bleeding away nicely to become a washed out resemblance of a colour that could be mistaken for something that almost used to be blue.

And where did that self-pitying (yet painfully accurate) monologue come from? Well not _literally _where did it come from of course, but he really didn't have time for yet more aching self-analysis. His power drain must have affected his mental reasoning circuits, and caused a nice steady leak out of some of his encrypted memory banks.

_Brilliant._

Surge rubbed his forehead. 'This really isn't the time to reminisce or indulge in a physics lecture, since we-'

He broke off abruptly to gasp loudly in surprise and pain, as a barrage of electric shocks like jagged glass buried themselves into his hands. He then winced, as he felt all sensation drain out of his left hand completely. He wiggled the fingers on it and looked at them miserably, as he registered no feeling in them at all. Surge spread them and compared them with the fingers on his right hand, and could feel those digits hurrying to shed their nerve responses as well.

_Again, brilliant._

Before he could speak again, Ralph beat him to it. 'You're not looking too good there Surge. You need a…drink or something?'

_Oh yes a root beer would be just peachy, thank you. Put an end to all my problems that would, what a fantastic idea, height of genius, how did we ever live without-_

_Stop it. _

'No, Ralph, I don't need…what I _do_ require is a discrete device to provide a temporarily increased source of electric power, until the regulated flow from the main transmission system is reactivated and can be safely sustained.'

'…a what to provide a what?'

A lop sided smile appeared on Surge's face. 'Power, Ralph. I need another supply. I'm running on an internal backup supply, but it's almost drained away. It was never designed to be used for this long and to the intensity it has. Until the main generator is back online and the steady flow of power resumes to the Station, I need an emergency booster supply.'

Still with his hand on the back of his neck, Ralph gave a hesitant nod. 'Uh-huh and, uh, where are you gonna get something like that from?'

'Not me - you and Sergeant Calhoun need to go and get it.'

'To give your words right back to you Sparky, not a chance!' Calhoun had been prowling around the barrier enclosure, but paused to spit those words out. 'I'm questioning her as well, and you can't stop me!'

Surge's features arranged themselves into what he suspected was a slight sneer, as he folded his damaged arms across his chest. 'Try not to say that too many times Sergeant, or else I might have to prove to you that I can.?'

But before Calhoun could argue back, Ralph strode up between them. 'Alright guys that's enough. Just, _enough_. You two can swap insults over tea and biscuits later, or even have a good old fashioned fist fight if you want, but _not_ now. My best friend is _dying _JUST over there, and all you two can do is bicker?! Get a hold of yourselves!'

Ralph broke off to take a breath, and he combed a hand back through his hair. 'Yes we need to find out about Little Miss Strawberry Sour over there, but she's not our first concern.'

Calhoun opened her mouth, but Ralph gave her a piercing look and interjected before she could speak. 'I know that questioning Taffyta is important Tamora, but Vanellope is _more_ important. And while you can question one little girl racer, can you cure the other?'

Calhoun glanced away, and brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

'No, thought not. The only person who _can_ save President Pipsqueak is about to fizzle out, so I say we recharge him, save Vanellope, question Taffyta and then _maybe _think about Turbo and Sour Bill and anyone else in this blasted arcade who'll probably end up being involved in all of this! That make sense, or I am just talking a load of taffy swamp here?'

An unsettled silence fell, and Surge found himself wishing he could have been the one to give that summary. _Informative, emotive and to the point. And it was from Ralph. Who would have thought it? I really need to practice speaking more. _

_Or get him to give me lessons._

…_but let's practice a __**lot**__ more before we have to resort to that._

Surge checked Vanellope's countdown timer, and felt a prickle along his arms that had nothing to do with his draining power supply.

_Two minutes and two seconds left._

Ralph lowered both of his arms down to his side, and gave Calhoun a flat look. 'If he says we both need to go, then we both go.'

Calhoun gave Taffyta another dark look that could kill, before she pivoted sharply and walked determinedly away from the enclosure, as if it was taking all she had to resist the temptation to kick it or shout or argue some more. She took up a place at Ralph's side and put her hands on her hips. 'So where's this battery we've got to get for you then?'

'Well it's not exactly a bat-' Surge began, but then paused. 'Well actually yes, it pretty much _is_ a battery: it's an emergency back-up of my back-up supply, and looks like a small locked box, that's dark blue in colour. It's not very big, and it's…it's hidden behind a panel next to Fix-It Felix Junior's plug.'

'Why my game? And why do you even _have _a-' Ralph stopped himself, and waved a hand in front of his face. 'Never mind, you can explain later. We'll go get it. Come on Sergeant, it's time to search and retrieve.'

Calhoun didn't move, except to tilt her head at Surge. 'How do we get into this panel? And what are we going to find in there? I don't want to enter a new place without doing a full perimeter check first, and I'll need to undertake a surveillance scan as well, since it's breaking into a sealed area that must have been sealed for a reason.' She glanced at Ralph for confirmation, but the look on the Wrecker's face made her sigh.

'Fine; we'll go in blind then. But if we get fried or lost or can't find this power up and Taffyta does something else, it's all on you!' Calhoun pointed a finger at Surge, just in case he was in any doubt as to who she was referring to. With her other hand she held the wafer rectangle gingerly between her thumb and forefinger, as if it had suddenly turned contagious and, with a flick of her wrist, she sent it flying through the air. It landed with a clink as it hit the ground, and bounced up slightly to knock the toe of Surge's foot before it came to a complete rest on the floor.

Calhoun then looked back at Ralph, cocked her head sharply in the direction of his game, and turned around to head towards it.

With a slight swirl of nausea and a definite contraction of numbness, Surge looked at her retreating back.

_It's just your lack of power for why you're feeling this, that's all._

He then addressed Ralph, and heard his words as if they were being spoken from a distance. 'The panel you need is hidden behind the 'W' of the word 'white' that's embossed on your game's plug. Around that letter are opening hatches concealed around the edges. Just…prise them up and open the panel outwards, and you should see the box slotted into the side. There's not much else in that space, so it…it won't be difficult to see.'

Ralph nodded, and turned his frame and attention away to catch up with Calhoun.

'…thank you.' Surge said the words quietly and clearly but maybe too quietly, because Ralph didn't respond to them and continued to walk away with Calhoun at his side. He bent his head to say something to her and she tilted hers toward it to listen and, without hesitating, they stepped over a large crack in the floor and continued talking, engrossed in their conversation and seemingly oblivious to anything else.

Surge tore his eyes away from them, and felt a dead weight settle comfortably in the bottom of his stomach.

_Yes, go, don't worry about-_

'Nice to see your friends are so concerned about you. Anyone else might think you were the last of their priorities.'

Taffyta's words snapped Surge out of the start of another morose monologue, and he regarded her sharply. 'What? No that's-'

'Touched a stray nerve have I Sparky?' Taffyta asked in a drawl. She was leaning back against the enclosure tube, with one leg stretched out and the other bent back under her to rest against the glass. She had both hands in her pockets, and looked as if she didn't have a selfish care in the world. 'But don't worry, I'll be careful - you don't have many of them left _to _touch, do you?'

Surge knew that his mouth had dropped open, and that an unflattering look of incredulity had been scribbled all over his face.

_Did she just?- Oh she did __**not**__ just say all of that, that…_

…_that is __**not**__ how this is supposed to go._

Surge took a hesitant step towards the enclosure, and stared in at her. 'Why are you doing this?

Taffyta didn't move an inch from her casual slouch, and she plastered a fake look of puzzlement onto her face. '…_this? _You mean telling you the truth about your two sidekicks? Because lying is wrong Mr. Protector, so very very wrong.' She took one hand out of her pocket and waved a finger back and forth in admonishment. 'I might just have to teach you a lesson about that.'

_Unbelievable. Just…unbelievable. _

_She shouldn't be acting like this! She should be scared and screaming and cowering, like she was just a second ago, not…not rude and arrogant and acting as if she's the once in charge here. Why is she like this now? Because she's had a chance to calm down, and is finally showing how she really feels?_

…_or because Ralph and Calhoun aren't here, and she sees you as an easy touch?_

'Why are you doing this?' Surge repeated flatly, still clinging onto the hope that firm politeness might still get you somewhere. 'We know you wanted to be left alone, and I want to know why.'

'And _I_ want a fresh pack of lollipops, but that's not gonna happen any time soon.'

Surge sighed, and wondered why this always had to happen to him. It couldn't just be easy, could it? People couldn't just behave in the way they appeared to, or how they _should_, or how he wanted them to for even just a few seconds, could they?

He knew instinctively that his planned technique to gently prise some information out of her wouldn't work. If he kept up with the softly softly approach, he would just be wasting time and energy.

_Maybe that's what she wants. To run you down, and have you yelling and questioning and pleading until you're on the least dregs of power, and it's too late for them to come back with your power supply, and she'll just be left standing there with a smug smile on her face and everyone's last thoughts of me will be about how useless I am. _

Surge closed his eyes, and for a terrifying moment thought that he would then actually give up, and stop talking, and just _let _her berate him and ignore him and get her own way in the end.

_It wouldn't be the first time someone's done that, would it?_

Apart from that one time in the early days, he'd never taken any strong action against those that bent or broke the rules or pretended they didn't know about them. He didn't want them to think too badly of him, or to resort to using force when it wasn't necessary, except maybe sometimes it was, or at least the _threat _of it was, and- and maybe they thought badly of him _because _he didn't take a strong line with them, or a keen interest, even though he did, he really did, but didn't show it, and if he thought about it acutely he really only had himself to blame.

Surge closed his eyes tighter, and Taffyta continued relentlessly. 'Don't get angry with me that Ralph only thinks of precious _Vanellope _instead of you, and that Sergeant Smash still hates you for shooting her, even though you _were_ only doing it for her own good. Are you…are you _sure_ you can trust them both?' She stopped to let out a loud, theatrical sigh. 'I mean, wouldn't it be just _terrible_ if something were to happen to the two of them? If they, you know, _accidentally _overlooked your power charger, or _mistakenly _dropped it or ruined it? That Wrecker doesn't have a good track record with delicate things, does he? Are you _quite_ sure you want to risk not going to get it yourself?'

_Don't listen. You know full well that she's spewing basic reverse psychology at you, and trying to get you to doubt the others, so just don't listen. Just open your eyes and continue questioning her and- except what if she __**is **__right? Just a little bit, since it is a possibility that they'll mess up or something will happen and-_

_No. _

_Don't._

'Aw, don't start crying on me now SP. Water and electricity don't mix well, do they?'

_And how exactly are you going to question her if she's like this? She doesn't seem frightened or interested or-_

'And I don't see many friends lining up to wipe them away.'

_-willing to listen to you, and the more __**you**__ listen the worse it's going to get because-_

'And those you _think _you might have can't be trusted.'

_-her words are working, actually working, and if they get in any deeper and begin to settle they could be the last ones I remember. Her words work and mine don't, so…so if not words, then…actions. You can do more of those than her at present, so… what do you want your last action to be?_

'I would say you can't trust anyone but yourself…'

…_maybe your actions can't make her interested…_

'…but I don't want to lie to you. False hope is a killer you know.'

…_but they __**can**__ make her frightened…_

'Still with me SP? Or enjoying your nap too much?'

…_and if you __**are**__ going to die out here, it should be done on your terms and in a way fit for remembrance. _

'It's rude to ignore your guest you know.'

Surge opened his eyes slowly, and could feel a steady pressure build up behind them as he regarded Taffyta keenly and unblinkingly, as he willed his charged look to penetrate her like a laser beam and burn whatever it came into contact with.

With a spike of satisfaction he saw that Taffyta had stiffened, and a flicker of uncertainty crossed her face.

'I'm not ignoring anyone, but please don't mistake yourself for a guest here Ms. Muttonfudge,' Surge explained calmly, as he flexed his fingers and rolled his shoulders. 'Guests should feel welcome in a host's house, and you are most definitely _not_ welcome in mine.' He pushed one leg back behind him and rested his weight on it, as he twisted slightly so that the side of his body was facing the enclosure.

'You are not a guest Taffyta.' He narrowed his eyes slightly, and focused on a tiny area of the barrier. 'You are an _intruder_.' He made a last adjustment to his stance, finished his calculations, and lowered his voice further.

'And intruders need to be expelled.'

Like a coiled spring snapping open Surge propelled himself forward and, in an almost perfect imitation of Ralph's earlier action, stretched his arm out and_ punched _the enclosure.

Taffyta gasped as she heard his fist connect solidly to the enclosure, and she jerked upright instantly.

As Surge settled into his position, he wondered what Taffyta could see when she looked in his eyes. Possibly spheres of blue radiating a controlled yet uncompromising fury, or maybe shutters that appeared blank and merciless that sealed off any form of connection. He hoped it was the former, but the latter would be true enough.

'What- what are you doing?'

_Watch and find out._

For a few seconds Surge remained silent, as his fist pressed against the tube. The barrier hadn't moved, and it looked as if his action was having no impact at all. Taffyta must have come to this conclusion, because although her look of haughtiness had been reduced, it was still there.

_She doesn't believe I have the ability to crack the glass, let alone the mentality to actually do so. And I know this is wasting time and power but…but even if there's no more time to be had, there __**is**__ a source of power that can be tapped into and-_

_Don't._

_If you do connect you'll drain down quicker, but-_

_-but if you do, then this can be __**finished**__ quicker. _

'Why did you want to be left alone?' Surge asked her.

_One last chance. _

Taffyta had almost fully recovered from the shock of the punch, and she chose to answer the polite question with silence. She even dared to crack a faint condescending smile, as she stood steady and put her hands back into her pockets.

_Fine._

With a brief apology to his internal power supply, Surge pushed his feet down firmer and connected to the grid.

His internal warning began to pulse in what could be only be described as exasperation, as he extracted various pixels from it, converted them, primed them, and then channelled them up his leg and into his arm and injected them into the grimy exterior of his enclosure.

_**!_Internal Power Supply remaining…19%!**_

Surge pressed the clenched knuckles of his hand harder against the tube, almost willing that they could break through and at the same time glad they couldn't, because the pressure was an odd comfort, a release, a safely closed channel, and he poured all of what he was feeling into the action.

_**!_Internal Power Supply remaining…18%!**_

He gritted his teeth and pushed harder, his muscles bunched and tensed and his whole arm trembling from the sustained tension. Still without blinking, he felt his lip begin to curl upwards in a snarl as he pushed down hard on his feet, exhaled slowly, and increased the force into his stationary punch. The entire enclosure trembled, and Taffyta's façade of arrogant confidence finally collapsed as she looked at where Surge's hand was crushed up against.

The enclosure trembled again, and a hairline crack appeared in it.

_**!_Internal Power Supply remaining…17%!**_

Taffyta gasped softly and pressed back against the tube again, as if she could escape.

'Why did you want to be left alone in here?' Surge demanded. 'Why are you doing _any_ of this?' He voice was low and hard, but maybe it had been louder than he'd thought, and Ralph and Calhoun had stopped, and were right now looking back at him in concern, or fright, or even admiration, but if they were doing any of those things it was too late now and he wasn't sure he even cared.

He continued to press his clenched fist against the barrier, and Taffyta's wide-eyed look of fear and obvious desire to go backwards spurred him on to push his punch forward even _harder._

He pushed and pushed and, if he'd had any feeling left in his hand, he would have felt two of the fingers in it break.

_**!_Internal Power Supply remaining…16%!**_

Taffyta's breathing began to deepen and become erratic, as she watched the hairline crack widen, divide, and then begin to blossom out in jagged lines.

Surge clenched his jaw harder, and felt a wave of heat burn through him as his internal systems screamed in protest. He ignored them, and didn't let up on the pressure he was producing. He saw the broken lines spread out further, like an explosion in slow motion, and watched them eat into the glass.

'You said this barrier couldn't be broken!' Taffyta shrieked.

'…maybe I lied,' Surge told her in a low growl. 'If… I had the time, you… could try and teach me that lesson. But we both… know that time is something I don't have, so, I guess I'll have to… _repent_ the error of my ways later.'

The lights on the bottom of the barrier enclosure all stopped blinking to turn a dull and uniform red, as they finally realised the structural integrity of the tube was being compromised. But they didn't flash in caution, or sound an alarm, because these had never been programmed in. The enclosure was designed to be impregnable, and no warnings had been considered necessary.

'Don't!' Taffyta sputtered out, as a crack as long as her arm splintered downwards.

Surge's silent smile was, he suspected, quite terrible to behold, and it was clear she didn't know if it was just for show or not. _He_ didn't know if it was just for show or not, but it was too late to ease back now, he was nearly there, and even if he wasn't nearly there it didn't matter, because he didn't really _want_ to ease back, and that was terrible and wrong but painfully true, and if it worked then great but if it didn't and he _did_ die out here then what on earth could anyone even do about it?

The glass continued to fragment and the enclosure began a steady shudder, and Taffyta finally looked like a terrified little girl belatedly realising she was dabbling in things she shouldn't even know about. She was scared, no terrified, and completely believed that the tube would soon implode inwards and impale her with razor sharp glass shards before Surge himself reached in to grab her by the throat and literally squeeze the answers out of her, and at the same time as picturing this terrible scenario and berating himself appropriately for it, Surge couldn't stop the sudden thought from popping into his head that Calhoun would have been proud of him.

_**!_Internal Power Supply remaining…15%!**_

'Stop doing that and I'll talk to you!' Taffyta practically whined.

'This is _not_ a negotiation Ms. Muttonfudge,' Surge informed her darkly. 'I'm not…trained in that don't forget. _I _will continue and _you…_youwill _still_ talk.'

Taffyta looked around wildly, as if an emergency exit would appear for her if she just wished hard enough for it.

'I could disable this tube right in front of you…' Surge found himself hissing. 'I'm the only one who _can_ you know,' he continued, and found himself only slightly shocked at the tone of his voice. Not to mention the content and what it implied, and what he hoped she'd fear he'd do, because maybe it wasn't just a threat, it was a statement, a promise, and the force he was inflicting on the tube had produced more long cracks, and they were branching away steadily now, and widening quickly, and it wouldn't be long before a part of it would snap and break away completely and then he'd be free to-

'He said to do it like this!' Taffyta blurted out desperately. 'He said that when I was alone and whenever you guys finally left me he'd tell me what to do next and-' she broke off and glanced around quickly, as if scared she'd been overheard.

Surge lowered his voice and made an effort to calm it, but he didn't ease up on the force he was putting into his hand and the tube it was connected to. 'He would do _what_? Because you _really_ don't want to know what _I'm_ about to do…'

Taffyta swallowed dryly, and her eyes flicked around once more before she stuttered out a reply. 'He said… he said he'd meet me here, and…and explain it all, and that it would be fine, because…because that's what the next stage was, and it wouldn't be bad, he wouldn't hurt anyone, and hereally isn't that bad you know, not really, not if you think about it, and he even told me that you even _liked_ him once, probably, and that he told you all about-'

'I never liked Sour Bill!' Surge interrupted loudly. In a flare of anger he kicked the bottom of the barrier, and felt the fractured tube quiver. 'Stop wasting time and _lying_ to me, or-'

'Sour Bill?' Taffyta repeated blankly, as a look of genuine confusion spread across her face. 'I didn't say anything about _him_.'

Surge froze half-way through his second kick, and felt himself blink for the first time. 'You- what?'

Taffyta took a deep breath to steady herself, and as she exhaled she cocked her head slightly. Her voice was shaky and respectful, but a faint trace of her earlier smug proudness threatened to surface. '…Sour Bill didn't say he'd come and see me,' she explained slowly.

Without thinking about it Surge relaxed the pressure in his hand, and he felt a drain of tension from his entire body as his fingers finally broke contact with the glass.

Taffyta's next words were without hesitation, and the fear and anticipation that underscored them had begun to mutate into a different strain entirely.

'…_Turbo_ did.'


	12. Acquisition

**AN: Standard disclaimer – I…won't both with these any more, since you already know what I'm going to say! **

**To Guest606 – Thank you very much for your review :) And please feel free to gush as much as you wish! I'm glad you're enjoying the story.  
**

**To anyone reading this – Thank you for still doing so, and for any comments you may have about it :) **

* * *

**12. Acquisition**

'The panel you need is hidden behind the 'W' of the word 'white' that's embossed on your game's plug. Around that letter are opening hatches concealed around the edges. Just…prise them up and open the panel outwards, and you should see the box slotted into the side. There's not much else in that space, so it…it won't be difficult to see.'

Ralph nodded at Surge's instructions and turned away to catch up with Calhoun, who had already begun to stride away in impatience. If he didn't distract her soon she'd probably end up throwing something else at Surge, or himself, and waste yet more time arguing when Vanellope was flashing away before their very eyes.

Ralph was soon by Calhoun's side, and they made their way towards Fix-It Felix Junior. He almost thought he heard something like _'…you' _being whispered from behind him, but before he could turn around and check it out, Calhoun hissed something of her own under her breath.

'Miserable lying piece of strawberry coated scum, I oughta…'

Ralph bent his head towards her. 'How _did _Taffyta put those wafers on you?'

Calhoun grimaced, and titled her head towards him to answer. 'Just after you left Sugar Rush, me and Vanellope were by the exit, finishing up, when _she _came tearing up the rainbow road in that rotten pink kart of hers. She screeched to a halt, jumped out, and rushed towards us looking like she'd just witnessed the end of the world. Eyes wide with fear, mouth dropped open, waving her arms about like a moron trying to fly…'

In sync they stepped over a large crack in the floor, and Calhoun's grimace hardened. 'She runs straight past Vanellope and I mean she _ran_, like she was being chased, and _crashes_ straight into me and _grabs_ me, and starts blabbering about how the birthday race engine has been shut down. Says she's seen it been deactivated with her own eyes, and she's devastated, and they can't have a race now, and blah blah blah, and that gets Vanellope all worked up, who then rushes out of the game to have some strong words with our favourite security guard.'

Calhoun breathed in deeply and exhaled sharply. 'Taffyta was good, I'll give her that; she spoke the truth about the engine being shut down, and distracted both of us while she planted the wafers on me.'

Ralph narrowed his eyes. 'And why were you distracted? Guilty conscience?'

'_What_?' Calhoun's eyes snapped up.

Ralph looked at her darkly. 'You heard me. Stringing her along like you're actually gonna help her with the race, but then goin' behind her back to pull the plug at the last moment.'

Calhoun's glare flickered. 'I didn't actually pull the plug, don't forget - Surge did.'

'You didn't do anything to stop it though! You _lied_ to her and helped her and then sided with the guy who _also_ lied to her and went behind her back.'

They had reached the entrance to Fix-It Felix Junior, and stopped in front of the surface of the plug. The entrance itself was completely sealed off by the quarantine foam, and the electronic board that usually had the game's name scrolling across was lifeless. The plug appeared as a dull grey instead of a brilliant white, thanks to the low level lighting still struggling to illuminate the Station, and the embossed letters of the word 'white' were outlined only faintly.

'It wasn't just me who filled Vanellope's head with dangerous dreams of racing,' Calhoun told Ralph firmly. 'Yes I encouraged her, but so did you. Go ahead and blame Surge for shutting it down, but blame yourself for guilt tripping him into agreeing to it in the first place.'

'…you weren't there when we agreed on the race, so-'

'It doesn't take a two-bit psychic to know that's what happened. Little Miss Sparkles wouldn't have been able to convince Surge by herself to agree to the race, but with you behind her it was a force he couldn't withstand.'

Ralph sighed, and ran a hand back through his hair. 'I know it wasn't the most sensible thing to agree to, but the way she explained it, and the way she looked up and me and- oh come on Tamora, the kid had been bullied and hated and lived in the garbage for fifteen years! She deserved to have a bit of fun! What harm could it have really done? And I didn't lay a _finger _on Surge to make him agree to it, so-'

'I didn't say you did! There's more than one type of force, Wreck-It. Let me look into my crystal ball again, and take a guess that you more than hinted at Surge being partly responsible for Turbo entering Sugar Rush in the first place?'

Ralph slipped into a guilty silence, and Calhoun continued. 'The guy isn't completely dead inside, and probably agrees with you that Vanellope's had it tough and needs a break. No doubt he _does _feel guilty about what Turbo did, and with you two pushing him he felt pressured into agreeing to the race. But when he's got the time to think it through clearly he knows it's not such a good idea, and that the safety risks outweigh any benefits. So he sacrifices the two of you being nice to him for once and he shuts it down.'

Calhoun stood unmoving for a second, and followed Ralph's gaze to look intently at the embossed letters in front of them. 'I know how he felt, because I thought the same as him. …except _un_like him, I didn't shut the race down. I couldn't, I…'

Calhoun sighed, and ran a hand through her hair. She hated leaving the dirty work to others, and prided herself on being able to face difficult situations proudly. She'd never shied away from conflicts, and if people didn't like her orders that was too damn bad, and they could go suck a cy-bug egg for all she cared.

Except now she _did _care. Well to an extent she did.

Organising the birthday race meant being part of an excited and laid back group of racers and friends, instead of being responsible for a collection of battle hardened soldiers where the tension was so tight it could be tasted. When they sat down to plan out the race, it involved pouring over race-track plans instead of battle strategies, and drinking ice-cream smoothies instead of filtered water that tasted like the inside of an oil can.

She kept telling herself that she'd put an end to the plans soon, but there was never seemed to be a right time. Then Taffyta had told them the engine had been shut down, and in a rage Vanellope had rushed out into Game Central Station. Calhoun had spoken briefly to Taffyta to confirm it, then went storming out of the game as well. She'd honed straight in on Surge, walloped him with her helmet, and then thanked him for shutting the race down. She was mad at him for doing it, and mad at herself for _not _having done it.

Calhoun sighed again, and blamed meeting Felix for turning her this soft. When this was all over she'd have words with him, strong words, and give him a stern and serious look and explain that she wouldn't be giving into the whims of little girls any more, as she had a reputation to preserve and many serious duties to undertake, and he'd better not even _think_ of arguing with her, or else his measly 8-bit body would be broken down into two much smaller bits. Except he'd probably love all that and wouldn't be intimidated at all, and would simply give her that goofy grin of his, and she'd be powerless to not smile back at him, and-

She ran her eyes over the entire entrance to the game, and felt her face soften. Felix was no doubt being swamped by panicky Nicelanders in there, and wondering what was going on and when it would all be over and maybe, hopefully, he was also wondering about her, if she was OK, and if she in turn was thinking about him-

Calhoun shook her head and narrowed her eyes. 'Let's get this over with.'

They took the final few steps up to the plug, and Calhoun reached out to run a finger around the 'w.' Even with her glove on she could feel the hidden catches around it; they were small and well hidden, and with only a slight amount of effort and concentration she prised them all up. But opening the concealed panel was another matter. Even using both hands and putting all her weight behind into the effort, she couldn't make even one of the catches budge. When she'd finished thoroughly cursing Surge for creating such a ridiculous contraption, she finally let go and pointed angrily at Ralph.

'Get onto it Wreck-It, and make sure you don't snap them off completely!'

'Hey!' Ralph looked at her affronted, but still reached out an arm to pinch a catch between his thumb and forefinger. 'Just because _you_ can't do something, don't take it out on those who can!'

Ralph pulled slowly and carefully on the catch, and felt it pop outwards. It was still connected to the panel, but was now longer and looser. Ralph didn't need it spelt out to him that he had to pull out all of the catches before the panel could be opened. He pinched another one, and spoke to Calhoun as if continuing their earlier conversation.

'Except Surge didn't really shut the race down, did he? He only turned off what he _thought_ was the engine, which actually turned out to be just a hologram inside the game. President Fartfeathers somehow moved the real engine elsewhere, which is now being used to bring Turbo-freaking-Tastic back to life.' Ralph shook his head, and freed another catch. 'Any thoughts on that?'

'Not any pleasant ones.'

Ralph tipped his head in agreement, and pulled out another catch. 'We'll add it to the list of things to ask Surge when we get more than two spare seconds before something else happens to us.'

Calhoun nodded. 'Just don't expect a reply in plain English with less than ten syllables per word.'

Ralph shook his head again, but this time in faint amusement. 'He is ten thousand volts of boredom, I won't argue with that, but he _is _stillten thousand volts though don't forget.'

'Seemed more like _ten_ when he tried to get away from me.' Calhoun looked down approvingly at her neoprene clad legs. 'A crippled cy-bug with its eyes torn out and half its guts missing packs more of a punch than he ever did.'

Ralph continued to pop out more catches, and glanced briefly at her insulating armour. But his face was drawn in reluctant doubt as opposed to an uplifting one of respect. 'Probably, but…but you ever thought he held back deliberately on you? I mean, the guy's unpopular enough, and if he seriously hurt you he'd have the whole arcade after him. And don't look at me like that! You know what I mean – looking all _surprised _that I'm saying you're popular, even though you've not been here long. 'Course you're popular._ I_ know it, everyone _else_ knows it, and Mr. Mall Cop certainly knows it.'

Calhoun fell silent, and let her gaze slip from her leg to the floor.

Ralph removed the final catch, and looked at Calhoun seriously as a concealed handle appeared out of the middle of the panel. 'If he _really_ wanted to cause you damage he could have done so with that gun. But he didn't.'

'Didn't hear you defend him this much back when I had my foot in his face!' Calhoun snapped. 'In fact you looked ready to give him a good smack yourself.'

Ralph said nothing, and positioned his fingertips under the rim of the handle.

'And correct me if I'm wrong,' Calhoun continued in the same lecturing voice, 'but even though I _haven't been here long,_ I don't remember you singing his praises before all this went down.'

Ralph sighed, and with a steady pressure began to lift the handle up. 'The guy's a royal pain in the backside, don't get me wrong, but…but when we'd only been plugged in a couple of months, I remember seeing him zap some poor loser out cold for giving him grief. Some big-mouthed NPC from a football game, long since unplugged and taken away.'

He pulled harder, and angled the handle outwards. 'It was the first time we'd seen Surge do anything like that, and oh man it was brutal! Poor chump suddenly got a blue hand around his wrist and then _BAM! _Straight down on the floor with a thump, like the bricks I knock out, except the bricks get cleared away at the end of the day and this guy was just _left _there, until hours later when he came round with a killer headache and this all over twitch that didn't go away for days.'

Ralph frowned slightly at the memory. 'Pretty cold I know, but I guess…well I guess SP was less forgiving back in those days, or the guy said something _really _bad to him. Or maybe he just wanted to make a point early on. But whatever it was, no-one said a _word_ out of place to him for ages after that. Funny thing was, we then couldn't tell if he was proud and relieved or regretted every single second that passed as a result of what he'd done.'

Ralph shrugged, and continued pulling. 'But that was his call, and he had to live with it. I heard he got himself some gloves the following day, so he couldn't shock anyone again so easily. Probably too much of a temptation, or…or a career killer. If he even _has _a career, since I don't know what he could be promoted to. _Chief_ Surge Protector? But it's not like there's loads of those guys running about the arcade!

Calhoun let Ralph reminisce and speculate, as she absorbed the words and mixed them into her own theories about the situation unfolding around them.

Ralph put his free hand flat against the plug, and continued to heave at the handle. 'And what he said about him, you know, _evolving_ and all that, well…does that mean he's packing extra power now? Or just better able to handle us if we get out of line? Or a bit of both? Ah who knows! Most of that technical junk he rambles on about _is_ just junk that doesn't make sense…but, anyway, after Surge shocked that guy and got all meek and quiet, the guys got risky and started talking back to him. And when he didn't say or do anything they carried on, and before long he didn't even _look _at us, as we-'

'Smuggled items out of games and lied to his face?' Calhoun concluded bluntly.

Ralph grimaced and pulled the handle sharply, bending the tip of it as he did so. 'Oh, great, now look what you've made me do! That's another thing for him to have a go at me at.' Ralph scowled down at the bent handle, and formed a fist with his free hand.

'It wasn't just me you know! _Everyone_ did it, and-'

'And that's a good enough reason to do it yourself is it? Of all the people here Wreck-It, I figured _you _would have known what it's like to just do a job and be hated for it.'

Ralph didn't respond, and Calhoun saw what looked like guilt or regret or some sort of self-recriminatory emotion flash in his eyes before he ducked his head and hid them. The Wrecker concentrated intently on prising the handle outwards, doing so slowly and carefully so as not to snap it off before the panel itself could be opened. Calhoun watched it all in a thoughtful silence, as she considered all Ralph had just said. She stood still and observed and thought, and was glad no-one could see the expression that rippled over her face as she did so. It was a blend of worry and concern and tactical consideration and personal regret, and it lasted longer than she'd been prepared for, before she shook her head gently and reset herself to normal.

'You take much longer with that and we'll both evolve into something not even the cy-bugs would touch!'

'Hey, I'm doing the best I can here!' Ralph snapped immediately, as if he'd been waiting for the chance to bite back at her. 'Do you want to take over? No, because you can't. A few more words of encouragement and a few less of the insults will go a long way you know! Sheesh, Felix must have the patience of a Saint…' Ralph hardened his stance, took a small gamble, and heaved hard on the handle. With an effort he pulled the panel door out towards him, which opened slower and smoother and quieter than he'd been anticipating.

He could feel Calhoun's eyes burning into his back, and all of a sudden didn't want to investigate the panel with her in such a volatile mood. And he _was_ feeling guilty about the truth of her words, but really didn't feel like examining them too closely right about now. He wasn't perfect with words at the best of times, and he couldn't think of an appropriate response to her observation about someone doing a job and being shunned for it. He suspected it wouldn't have been too difficult if he focused on it, but he also suspected it would hurt. It might actually hurt a lot, so instead he pushed it to one side and changed the subject to one he knew she'd like.

'Did Felix ever tell you about the first time he met Surge?'

Calhoun shook her head, and even though she knew Ralph was deliberately changing the subject, she let it pass. She couldn't help but pay attention whenever Felix was mentioned.

Despite the situation, Ralph felt a small smile form as the memory returned to him. He let the panel door open fully, before he turned his attention away from it.

'Couple of days after we were plugged in, we're walking out of our game into the Station to check out Tappers, and ol' Fix It Junior gets stopped by Surge. Seems like his hammer set off one of his alarms or something – not the red grid, they weren't created yet – and so Felix explains it and SP nods, scribbling something down on his clipboard as he does so, and Felix- well Felix then _bows_ and tips his hat and says 'Thank you sir, and may I say it's been a _pleasure _to meet you!' and just walks on as normal but _into_ Surge!'

Ralph's smile became a grin. 'As if Surge isn't really there, and anyone could pass straight through him, like the blue guy's just a hologram or something, and Felix suddenly _bounces_ off of him and _smacks _onto his back on the floor! He's then lying there on the ground for a good few seconds lookin' totally _horrified_ at what he's done, and then he suddenly springs to his feet and wrings his cap and apologies as if he's caused the meltdown of the whole arcade! And Surge just looks at him all blankly and totally _not_ amused, and then after a beat just nods at him and then strolls away and never says a _word_ about it again.'

Ralph shook his head and his grin widened, but Calhoun looked more thoughtful than amused. When Ralph had breathed in deeply in what could almost be contentment, Calhoun spoke to him in a voice lower and softer than the Wrecker had been expecting. 'Sounds like you and Felix were quite close back then.'

Ralph's face collapsed immediately, as with a sharp pang he remembered the first few months of his game's existence. He and Felix _had_ been friends with each other back then, and that evening had been the first time they'd agreed to go for a drink together. The visits to Tappers had petered out after only a couple of weeks, but Ralph had been content to remain on pleasant speaking terms with his counterpart, complete with friendly bantering and the occasional shared pie.

But then the game's popularity had soared, Gene had flexed his muscles, and Felix had allowed himself to be swept along with the crowd in barely acknowledging Ralph's existence. The Handyman had still continued to exchange pleasantries with the Wrecker when he wasn't physically able to avoid him, but what could have been a long-lasting friendship between them had been cut brutally short.

Lost in thought, Ralph felt his arms fall to his side and his whole posture slump. So many years had then passed where he'd simply _existed_ instead of living, and every day had been a weary cycle of pointless loneliness that promised nothing but a repeat performance.

Seeing Ralph's obvious sadness, Calhoun felt her mouth twitch in regret at bringing the subject up. But then she stood proud and straight, and addressed Ralph sternly. 'But that's all in the past. Everything's changed now, _including_ Felix. The way he goes on about you, about how he's sorry he ever treated you like he did, and how he never meant to hurt you, and how he's so pathetically glad you're actually giving him a chance to make it up to you, it's a wonder I get a look in some nights.'

Ralph's head snapped up at that, but Calhoun leaned forward and pointed an accusing finger at him. 'You say one word to him about what I've just said, and ten thousand volts will be _nothing_ compared to what I'll put through you!'

Ralph nodded silently, but he stood up straight as well, and the cloudy look of despair vanished from his face. He looked at Calhoun but, before he could say anything to her, his gaze had slid past to take in what was happening in the background. He squinted slightly, and felt his mouth drop open in mild disbelief. 'Damn, Surge!'

Calhoun spun around to look at what Ralph was gawking at, and felt her eyes widen slightly as, through the shadows, she saw Surge with an outstretched arm pushing against the barrier enclosure. It…it almost looked like he'd just finished punching it, but he was still pressing his clenched fist up against it as if to continue the punch.

'Why's he doing that?' Ralph asked. 'I punched that barrier and it didn't do a thing. Can _he _smash through it?'

'Of course he can't,' Calhoun responded instantly, as she looked on approvingly at the scene in the distance. 'That barrier's unbreakable, I tested it myself. He's just putting the frighteners on her, and good on him. That soulless cavity needs to know she's not in charge around here.'

It was almost impossible to see if any damage had been done to the tube, thanks to their distance from it and the lack of lighting, but Ralph still squinted harder and tried. 'He might succeed.'

'No, he won't. But he _will _run out of power, so if you want him fully charged and able to bring Vanellope back, we need to get that battery of his.'

Ralph dragged his eyes back to the panel, and peered in. It was like a small cupboard, with shelves of plastic lining the side walls. The bare back wall didn't extend very deeply into the game, and was composed of several sheets of gun grey metal. They were uneven, and looked like they'd been welded together in a messy rush. The patchwork quilt of metal didn't look like it belonged with the rest of the gleaming white interior, and it didn't look natural or professionally added.

In short, it didn't look like Surge's work.

Before Ralph could think about voicing these thoughts out loud, Calhoun had barged him to the side and reached up. 'Hey!'

The Sergeant ignored him, and grabbed a dark blue box from a shelf. It was sealed with an old fashioned padlock, slightly rusted at the edges, with a large black space for a key to be inserted in it. Calhoun rested it on her upturned palm, testing its weight, and then shook it gingerly, experimentally, but no sounds were emitted. The box was fairly hefty but not uncomfortable to hold, and was either full to bursting or completely empty.

'This lock looks about as low-tech as you can get. And dirtier than my men get after a few drinks. SP has let his standards slip here a bit, but still; one well-placed shot and I'll have this lock off quicker than a-' Calhoun began, but was cut off by a sharp elbow in her side. She jerked more in shock than in pain, and nearly dropped the box. 'Hey! Ease it Wreck-It, before I-'

'What's _that_?' Ralph questioned, as he pointed to one of the jagged metal plates on the back wall. Calhoun glared at him briefly before she looked at where he was indicating.

It was a large dot of red, hovering almost nervously in the centre of a metal panel. Except when they looked closely, they could see it wasn't one big solid blob of colour; it was many small individual dots forming a larger one.

'That wasn't there a second ago,' Ralph continued, as he stretched out an arm to touch it. Before he could make contact with it Calhoun dug her fingers into his arm, and yanked it away sharply.

'Hey!' Ralph yelled, as he pulled his hand out of Calhoun's pincer like grasp.

'Idiot! Didn't you ever learn not to touch unknown sources of energy with your bare hands? No? Well maybe you oughta get back to school and re-sit the baby class.'

Ralph rubbed his hand and glared at her. 'You need to start talking to people more nicely you know!'

'You can talk!'

_ka-hiss_

They both snapped their heads to the source of the sound. It was the area the collection of red specs of light had formed, and before either one could ask if they'd imagined it, the sound repeated itself. Except this time it was louder, and longer.

_kaaa-hisssss_

'What the-' Ralph began, as he took an involuntary step backwards from the light source. The metal plate underneath it had begun to shimmer, and what looked like a wisp of smoke curled lightly from a pinpoint glow of black in its centre.

_KAaaa-Hisssssssssss_

Without looking at Calhoun next to him, Ralph addressed her as he took another step back. 'Call me crazy, but that's just light, and light can't act like…like-'

_KAAAA-HISSSSSSSSSSSS_

The puddle of red light didn't move, and it didn't change colour. But the dot of black in the centre looked fractionally larger now, and the small plume of smoke had turned from pale white into a dirty grey.

'…like acid, no,' Calhoun completed, as she matched Ralph's retreating steps backwards. 'But it is, and I'll bet you a spit stained quarter it's not gonna stop eatin' through it on our account.'

The surface soon bore a black hole at is core, the approximate size of Ralph's expanded pupil, and it was growing fast. A steady stream of light black smoke was now streaming out of it, as the hissing sound of dissolving metal filled the small compartment.

'Time to get movin' Wreck-It.'

With one hand clutching the box, she used the other to grab a fistful of Ralph's shirt and dragged him back out of the panel. Before Ralph could think about slotting the catches back into place he saw them do so automatically. Every single one trembled slightly and then shot down into their original places and, still at the same time, they then twisted and turned back into their hidden grooves. The panel door slammed shut with a bang, and the last thing they saw before it closed in their faces was a spreading pool of fiery red light and pitch black smoke.

Calhoun turned around and began jogging back to the barrier enclosure. 'Hey Surge, someone's set your hidden panel on fire, and don't dare look at us!' But despite her yell Surge didn't acknowledge her. In fact he didn't even look in her direction.

Despite herself Calhoun slowed to a stride, and felt a horrible swell of unease slosh through her stomach at what she saw. Taffyta was still secured, but there were huge cracks running up and down the enclosure. Surge had his hands in bunched fists at his side, and he was leaning in to talk to Taffyta as if she was the only thing in his world.

Taffyta then briefly pointed straight upwards, to the ceiling, before putting both her hands in her pocket, never once moving her eyes from the man in front of him. She was speaking, and whatever she was saying had Surge captivated. She then said one more thing and then stopped, and whatever it was made Surge's mouth fall open. He then took a large step backwards, all the while gawking at Taffyta. It was difficult to see the expression on his face, but whatever it was it then translated into a series of actions.

Surge first looked up at one of the temperature control boxes, and as Calhoun followed his gaze, she saw that its red beam was pointing directly at the hidden panel they'd just escaped from. A quick glance around the Station's ceiling confirmed to her that _all _of the infra-red beams were focused on Fix-It Felix Junior's Plug.

With a dry mouth, Calhoun opened it to shout again. But before the first syllable of 'After I get some answers out of Taffyta you best believe I'm getting them out of you!' had been completed, Surge had started his second sequence of movements.

He knelt down, put one hand flat against the floor, and looked back at Taffyta.

Calhoun had just enough time to see an uncertain expression flicker across Taffyta's face, before she looked quickly back at Surge to see his upper lip curl and his head nod smartly. But that was all she saw, because in the next instant Surge pressed down harder, connected to that cursed grid of his, and killed the back-up lights.

The Station was instantly plunged into total blackness.

Except, that was, for the bright red trails of light streaming out of the boxes above them. They never faltered in their aim, and continued to eat through the panel and into the plug.

Loud confusion reigned rampart behind the heavy curtain of nothingness in front of Calhoun's eyes. She heard Ralph curse, Taffyta scream, and felt a tingle crawl down her spine as several wailing alarms kicked into action.

Just as Calhoun decided to continue onto the barrier enclosure, a wall of painfully bright light forced her to close her eyes and raise a hand to shield them. The alarms shrieked even higher and louder, and Calhoun had to use both hands to press them firmly into her ears to block out even a fraction of the sound. She grimaced painfully, and although her eyes were shut tight, the piercing white light still blinded her.

And then all of a sudden everything stopped.

The wall of white light crumbled instantly, and the alarms were cut off sharply. The previous dull glow of the back-up lights flickered back into place, and the loudest sound in the Station was Taffyta's breathing.

Calhoun cracked her eyes open and scanned the room quickly, professionally, and after only an initial check three things were painfully clear to her.

The first was that a large piece of the barrier enclosure had come completely loose, and was lying in fragments on the ground.

The second was that the blocks that formed Vanellope had stopped flashing.

And the third was that Surge was nowhere to be seen.


	13. Invitation

**AN: In case anyone was wondering, when I do finally get around to wrapping this story up I will let you all know when the penultimate chapter is reached, so you know it's coming to an end. **

**But until then, I thank you for putting up with such long chapters and for sticking with this story; this chapter takes things down a gear or so, but rest assured the actual plot is all planned out and will be progressing soon. (Work is giving me a pounding at the moment, so I may not be able to update as frequently as I'd like, but I'm always working on this and won't ever give it up). **

**So again thank you for reading, and for any comments you may have about it :) **

* * *

**13. Invitation**

'…Sour Bill didn't say he'd come and see me,' Taffyta explained slowly.

Without thinking about it Surge relaxed the pressure in his hand, and he felt a drain of tension from his entire body as his fingers finally broke contact with the glass.

Taffyta's next words were without hesitation, and the fear and anticipation that underscored them had begun to mutate into a different strain entirely.

'…_Turbo_ did.'

For what constituted a long second in his sense of time and speed, those words entered Surge's ears and sat down heavily. They didn't move or attempt to explain themselves, and were content to just sit there dumbly. Taking far longer than it should have, Surge's brain then finally registered their presence and took action: the words were sucked up, analysed, rejected and immediately spat back out.

'Turbo did _not_ say that,' Surge responded firmly. 'Turbo is _dead_. Well at present he is; if that tablet computer can be believed he's on his way back, and-' Surge shook his head, dismissing the notion.

Surge knew that any moment now his systems would begin to exact payback for his barrier- smashing, bone-cracking, energy-draining grid manoeuvres that he shouldn't have even thought about, much less actually do. But for now – for _just_ this moment now – he felt a pleasant kind of numbness. His systems hadn't yet finished cataloguing all the damage he'd put them through, and Taffyta's claim was so ridiculous it didn't even deserve a response, let along contemplation.

So then why had his mouth gone dry? And why did it feel like there were tiny insectile feet running down his spine?

'…Turbo hasn't been dead for a while,' Taffyta informed him simply.

Surge sighed, and it was a painful and weary one. He'd come down from high alert, and now that he was no longer applying sustained tension to anything, his body had begun to relax. And as it did so it extracted its well-earned price from him, in the currency of tingling pins and needles over every area that hadn't already lost all sensation. A dull pounding headache had begun, and it throbbed in perfect sync to the laborious beating of his heart. Despite all of his recent exertions it pulsed with an almost reluctant effort, and everything about him felt heavy and laden and composed of hollow lead tubes.

'If…' he began, but faltered as a painful shudder struck him.

_Random bursts of electrical discharge throughout the muscular system. Its automatic regulatory system is disintegrating…no doubt having been de-stabilised by the forced transfer of grid power to the barrier enclosure, which I know shouldn't have been attempted at all, let alone when on the last dregs of backup power, but there we go. And which dregs amount to…_

_**!_Internal Power Supply remaining…15%!**_

_Brilliant. _

Even though he knew it wouldn't help in the slightest, Surge then took a deep breath before he tried to compose himself. But it was hard when his legs threatened to collapse underneath him, and it was difficult to ignore the slices of pitch black that had appeared in his eyes to cut off his peripheral vision. He knew that his body's support structures were weakening, and that his senses were shutting down.

'…if Turbo is alive,' Surge tried again, 'and he said he'd meet you here when we'd all left you so he could tell you what to do next, where would be in the _first_ place?' Surge stopped, as a particularly painful shudder ate down one of his legs. Quite pleased that he'd prevented any of discomfort from showing on his face, he raised his voice. 'If he was in a game he'd still be in there, as they're all under quarantine, so _where is he?_'

'…I…don't know,' Taffyta replied. Her eyes flicked around the Station briefly, as if expecting Turbo to reveal himself at any moment.

_Or as if she'd just lied._

'But…but I do know he will, and-'

'No, you _don't _know,' Surge interrupted sharply. 'You don't know _anything_ about Turbo, not really, so don't pretend you do. Turbo could say many things to you, but…but Turbo _lies_.'

Taffyta snorted softly, and her gaze steadied. 'So was he lying when he said you liked him once?'

Surge felt his mouth freeze in a half-open position.

_Well, no, he wasn't lying about that, but I'm hardly going to __**admit**__ that straight away, because that would give weight to the ridiculous theory that he's alive right this moment._

_But…but how else would she have known about that? Surely his King Candy persona wouldn't have bothered with such revelations?_

Surge's pause was brief, but it was all Taffyta needed. She jumped straight in and filled it, and took the conversation in a direction that threw Surge off-track yet again.

'I know what it's like,' Taffyta remarked quietly and quickly, as if eager to get this admission over and done with. 'To…you know, have the top person around the place liking you.'

'…what?' Surge responded, as he felt his dry throat constrict even tighter.

_Where on earth has this come from? And why are you feeling more and more uncomfortable with where this is heading? The only things you should feel worried about are the Station and Vanellope and your power supply, not…not pointless personal feelings, and whether you want them to remain buried away forever or exposed fully and laid bare for dissection. It's…not possible to want both of those conflicting outcomes to arise, is it? _

_Well it's certainly not __**normal**__, at least you can agree on that. _

Surge shook his head, and tried to steer the topic away from what he feared it was evolving into. '_Vanellope's_ the top person in your game, and she's forgiven you.'

'Vanellope is a _cheat_,' Taffyta snapped back in response. Her tone had slipped back into a dark and insulting one, wrapped up in a bitter sheet of jealously and regret and…and fear?

_Yes, fear. She's scared of something; most likely more than one thing, but what? Or maybe __**who. **__Who is she fearful of? Turbo? Vanellope? Sour Bill? …me? Someone else? …__**her**__self? _

'Princess-_President_ Vanellope is not a cheat,' Surge corrected her gruffly. 'I know there are some – you obviously included – who believe that she uses her glitching ability inappropriately, but that's incorrect. She can only glitch – can only _teleport_ – when a player presses the bonus button on their control, and that's only if they've acquired a bonus power up during the race. I've examined her code in detail, believe me, and that's the only time she can use it.'

To Surge's irritation, Taffyta rolled her eyes at him. 'I'm not an idiot; _everyone_ knows that. I'm talking about when there's _not _a player about. Do you ever monitor her during a Random Roster Race?' Surge broke eye contact briefly at that, and Taffyta's voice lowered and hardened at his answer.

'No, thought you didn't, because if you _did_, you'd see her glitch whenever she wants to. She _always_ glitches and teleports and _always _gets first place on the roster. That means she's the centre square when the players come to choose their avatar, and so she's the most likely one the player will pick. The selection curser automatically lands on the centre anyway, and new players usually just go with whoever's on it.'

Surge didn't respond, because he really hadn't known about that. He…he could almost understand Taffyta thinking Vanellope was a cheat because of it, but…but did she have her reasons? Well obviously the President had reasons behind her actions, but were they the _right_ reasons?

_And who determines what __**right**__ even is? __**You**__? _

'King Candy _never_ let cheaters get away with it,' Taffyta continued. She seemed to have forgotten about her earlier attempts to explain away Turbo's existence in a calm and controlled manner, and had now slipped into personal recollections and accusations.

_You should say something, and get her off of this topic._

_But why? So she can then return to the even more uncomfortable one of yourself and Turbo?_

_Besides, if you let her continue you might find out her motivations for doing all of this, and maybe discover what __**this **__actually is._

'If…well if we cheated…' Taffyta trailed off and, before he could help it, Surge found images of chains and fungeons and crushed candy shells flash quickly through his mind to silently complete her sentence, 'King Candy told us off. We'd be banned from one Random Roster Race, and made to apologise and clean up the castle as a chore or something, and…and it _worked_. Especially if you had to do your community service in public, and couldn't attend the post-race party afterwards.'

…_bit unfair of you to think that about him just now._

_Hardly; King Candy – __**Turbo – **__is capable of all that and more, and it's to your downfall if you do forget it._

'He _was_ fair!' Taffyta finally burst out, as her face contorted into a grimace at such an inappropriate confession. Her voice lowered even more, but didn't lose its edge. 'Unlike our _current_ leader.'

Surge shuffled forward half a step, and raised his head fully. _It's time to put a stop to this._

'_Turbo_ has _never_ been fair. He sees what he wants and he takes it. If he acted in a way that _appeared _to be fair, that's the only thing it was; an appearance. An act. Underneath, he…'

_Well now, are __**you**__ being fair? Turbo hardly lived every single second of his life backstabbing people and cooking up intricate plots of pain and deception, did he?_

…_true, but…but Taffyta doesn't know any better. You start telling her about Turbo's good points it will just reinforce what she already __**thinks**__ his good points are. It will only enhance what she's been __**led**__ to believe are his redeeming features, and make her think that Turbo was more than just a bad guy with evil intentions._

_..which is __**exactly **__what he was. Except you don't like to dwell too much on that part of him, do you? _

Once again Taffyta filled the silence that Surge had created with his incomplete response, and it was as if she'd never mentioned Vanellope at all, because she'd jumped back to what she'd been saying about the top person in a game liking you.

'It's quite something when the most popular person around chooses you, isn't it?' She'd put on a nearly blank face, with a hint of regret and understanding in her eyes and on her mouth, with her hands clasped loosely in front of her.

_Oh she's quite good at that; at replacing one set of emotions with another whenever she wants to. _

_But then again she's had a master's influence rub off on her for fifteen years._

Surge wanted to ignore her words, or to destroy them, but he couldn't. He'd frozen again, most likely because she'd switched _tracks_ yet again, and because he was still struggling to exist, but… but if he was being _completely_ honest with himself, it…it was because she'd used the word 'chooses.'

This time she hadn't talked about the top person around_ liking _you, but in them _choosing_ you. Lots of people could be liked, but far fewer were ever chosen for something.

'When they pick you out of the crowd, it…it feels great, doesn't it?' Taffyta said simply, a warm undercurrent buoying her words.

Surge closed his eyes briefly at that, and barely had them shut for a split second before he opened them again and continued his questioning. But during that tiny fragment of time he'd remembered. He'd remembered, and known how true Taffyta's words truly were.

When the most popular person around chose to spend their time with you, it _did _feel great. Like you were better than what you were, and if that person could see it, then maybe there was something inside, despite your belief that there wasn't.

You felt special and chosen and more than slightly surprised, because you never considered yourself as one of the popular people – one of the in-crowd – to begin with, so why would they lower themselves out of orbit to circle around _you_? And of course you felt nervous, because what if you slipped up and did or said something to make them realise that they'd been wasting their time with you?

But you didn't change who you were; you continued being yourself, because you liked them and didn't want to deceive them, and because you didn't believe in pretending to be anything other than what you were. It was better they found out the real you as soon as possible, in case they _had_ made a mistake and wanted to rectify it and back away.

But they _didn't _back away, and their acceptance – their _validation _–of you gave you confidence, because maybe they did see something genuinely special in you; it didn't have to be a huge something, just a tiny bit – and they were somehow drawn to its invisible power like a magnet, and it was so effective precisely _because_ you weren't aware you even possessed it in the first place.

There…there was nothing so wonderful as discovering that the person that everyone else wanted to be with had intimated that they only wanted to be with you, because how on earth could you say no to that?

For as long as he could remember, Surge had known he was programmed with limited social skills. That was most likely a requirement of his job and purpose: don't get too friendly with the characters, because you might have to stop them or punish them or deactivate them if they break the rules. You can't risk personal feelings having an influence over your judgements and actions you know, because that wouldn't be right or fair. Other characters may be allowed a certain leniency when it comes to enforcing in-game rules, but that doesn't apply to you. You can't indulge in that, no matter how unfair you sometimes mistakenly think it is.

But he _had _become too friendly with one, despite his programming, and instincts, and the extra layers of protective buffering code he'd wrapped around himself to prevent such a thing being completed once he'd suspected it was happening. But these had all been effectively breached in a shockingly short space of time and in _such _an effortless manner, and…and although it was horrifically unprofessional, it wasn't unwelcome.

Surge suspected such a thing would _never _be unwelcome, which was why he had then made extra efforts to enforce the rules. But to his dismay even _these_ weren't fool proof: he had let people like Ralph smuggle items out of games without even looking up at them, and for a short time he'd given in to Vanellope's impassioned plea to host her dangerous birthday race.

Turbo's popularity had appeared to be pre-set, because as soon as he'd been programmed in, he was confident without being arrogant, and jokingly bantered without being rude. Perhaps his outside popularity with the players had bolstered his inside standing with the characters but, whatever the reasons, Turbo held himself with an easy confidence and charm, and infected those around him with it. But of course he'd harboured far darker traits, which lay hidden and simmering and would only violently explode without warning.

Yes, Taffyta spoke the truth about it feeling great when a popular, successful and powerful person liked you and chose to ally themselves with you. Surge didn't want to agree with her on this – he didn't really want to agree with her on _anything_ – but she was right. Not that he'd ever dream of _admitting_ it to her.

But it seemed that his brief eye scrunch – a fleetingly raised shield to try and protect him from her words – was obvious in meaning as well as ineffectual in action. Taffyta nodded curtly, as if Surge had spoken every one of those thoughts out loud and his audience was agreeing with him; as if she was acknowledging the uncomfortable yet thrilling truth of them, and telling him no further explanation was needed.

They regarded each other silently for a beat, and Surge couldn't tell if he was more unsettled with regret and embarrassment that she knew what he had thought, or if he was more relieved that someone finally understood and accepted a part of him so completely that he could near enough voice it out loud and not be rejected for it.

But, oh, it was _Taffyta_ of all people, and it was _this_ situation of all situations.

Yes he'd only recently opened up a bit to Ralph, and shared a few things with him like why he used his clipboard and pen, but that hadn't been the whole truth; it had only been the superficial top layer of something. He had had no confidence that Ralph would be supportive and understanding if he told him how he really felt. He _still _had no confidence that Ralph would be supportive and understanding, and maybe he was still underestimating the Wrecker, but his instinct still told him to hold back.

However with Taffyta – with Taffyta in this _exact_ moment – he felt he could tell her almost anything. He could share everything about his time with Turbo and not hold back on a single word or thought, and she'd listen to them. She'd listen to them and accept them and _understand_ them, because she'd gone through something similar herself. Not the same – of course not the same – but there had never been anyone else who'd been so close to his former friend, and known what it was like to share in the unexplained warm light he generated.

_Or then feel the chill of the shadow he'd eventually leave behind. That dark shadow he'd __**always**__ leave someone standing behind in._

Surge once again briefly blinked his eyes closed, but this time to try and erase all of what he'd just thought.

_You need to seriously get a hold of yourself. You're running out of power, Vanellope's dying, Turbo's supposedly on the loose already and you're seriously thinking about how much of a possible bond you have with __**Taffyta**__? For the love of anything and everything, snap out of it. You don't have a bond with __**anyone**__, much less a manipulated young girl who doesn't know any better. I'm seriously embarrassed for you, you do know that, right? When this is all over you're making an appointment to see Dr. Mario. Or that slightly below regulation height solider in Hero's Duty who thinks he's their military psychiatrist. _

…_him? __**Really**__?_

…_desperate times my friend…_

'When did Turbo tell you he'd meet you out here?' Surge questioned Taffyta harshly, as he forced himself back to the present. He wasn't the only one that could ignore words and skip back to a topic he wanted the focus to be on.

But Taffyta wasn't yet done in her stubborn attempts to steer the conversation her way. She was speaking quickly now, as if in a hurry to share her points and fire her arguments at him. They were released in a rush, and there was no subtlety in their construction or aim. But, despite their inelegant delivery, they never missed their target or failed to complete their purpose.

'Calhoun is popular too, but she doesn't respect you the way you do her. Everyone knows that.'

_No, everyone does __**not **__know that. _

…_and, __**ouch**__…_

_You really need to stop listening to this girl, as she's obviously lying or exaggerating about things, and they're not doing you any good. Just don't listen to them. Or listen to them and then __**forget **__them._

…_oh now that's __**much**__ harder. In fact it's near impossible, especially since…well since they're so dangerously close to skimming the truth. What's that saying about sticks and stones having the power to break things but words will never be able to hurt? Well whatever the saying is, an utter idiot must have created it, since it's obviously the wrong way around._

'Sergeant Calhoun…' Surge began. 'She-'

'You do know she bragged about that ceramic blanket to us, don't you?'

'What do you mean?' Surge blurted out despite himself. He groaned inwardly, because he really didn't want to get into this right about now.

Taffyta smirked slightly at that, and her eyes flicked briefly away. Surge looked in the same direction, and could see Ralph and Calhoun standing outside of the hidden panel. It looked like they'd managed to open it, as the door was wide open on its hinges, but they were just standing there. They were standing there talking, and…and was Ralph _smiling_ about something?

_Oh yes that's right, no need to hurry: you just stand around joking and laughing while I drain away. _

…_but don't be so quick to judge - you have no idea what they're talking about. _

_True, but I __**do **__know that they're not moving as fast as possible to help me out. _

…_maybe they don't __**want **__to help you out. _

…_maybe you should just shut up thinking about such things. _

_Yes that sounds like a plan: maybe instead I'll just think about Calhoun and her insulating blanket, shall I?_

'She doesn't trust you,' Taffyta stated brutally. 'She never _has_ done.'

Surge swallowed dryly, and knew the resulting tight pain wasn't just the result of what he'd recently put his systems through.

Surge knew Calhoun had wanted to put a stop to Vanellope's birthday race, despite her open support for it. She'd visited Surge several times to discuss doing so before everyone got too carried away, but by the end of every visit she'd always put forth a well worded argument as to why now wasn't the right time to do so. Her confliction between wanting to do what was safe and sensible and that which was popular and desired was painfully obvious to him. Probably not to anyone else, but he knew such signs well, and he could read them clearly upon her. As if in compensation for her inaction, Calhoun would end the meetings with a promise to Surge that she _would_ put a stop to things and he _definitely _shouldn't pull the plug on it himself, because it would be better coming from her; that Vanellope would understand _more_ if it came from her and would argue less, and he didn't want to put the girl through any more disappointment and hurt, did he?

So Surge had held back, and chose to believe Calhoun's stretched promises. However it then got to the stage where Calhoun had argued her points less graciously, and would snap at Surge when he suggested the race should end, rather than employ her previous method of politely listening to all of his words before calmly suggesting that the race shutdown be delayed just one more time. In short, she had acted more and more as if she would never stop the race, and had built a superior podium to stand upon and look down on Surge as she irritably told him to stop interfering and to just give it a rest, since she'd just said she'd sort it out, so why did he keep going on about it?

Surge had let most of this attitude wash over him, mainly out of fear of losing the closet ally he had in the arcade, but he couldn't let _all_ of it slide, and sometimes enough just had to be enough.

After Calhoun had broken another promise to end the race, she'd exited Hero's Duty with a large weapon. The dark green tarpaulin had covered it from prying eyes but couldn't escape Surge's sensors, and he'd been alerted to its presence in GCS immediately. He knew that underneath the covering lay a modified rocket blaster, which was intended for use in the race. At one of their meetings Calhoun had brought it up, and explained how it had been thoroughly stripped down and so was therefore perfectly safe for use outside of her game, and how it would be a unique addition to the race that Vanellope would just love. She'd then backtracked the following meeting and sworn that it had been decommissioned and had just been a crazy idea of hers and would never _actually_ be used, so he could stop looking at her like that and change the subject and never mention it again.

But apparently she'd revisited that idea, and had tried her luck sneaking it out of the game. Calhoun was mad it had tripped the red barrier alarm, especially since her scientist soldiers had promised the opposite, and Surge was just as angry. She'd lied to him (_again_), and clearly thought his security precautions were so pathetic that she could bypass them with impunity.

Without really thinking about it and certainly without explaining why, Surge had then removed the harmless weapon. For it _was_ harmless, as he'd scanned it thoroughly before taking any action against it. At least she'd been honest about _that_. In a blurred swirl of pixels the rocket was taken without consent and banished to the grid, and oh did Calhoun rage about that.

For the first time since they'd met – for the first time since they'd started working together and formed some sort of relationship – Calhoun had looked at Surge in a way that most other characters had at least once. She'd regarded him as if he was an opposing and obstructing force rather than a supportive and protective one, and had darkly vowed that a time would come when _she_ would prevent _him_ from doing something that he only thought was for the best.

And all of a sudden these recollections made Surge widen his eyes and, as he continued to look at Taffyta, he felt his chest constrict, because he'd finally figured out why Calhoun had brought those ceramic tiles with her in the first place.

That something Surge had thought was for the best had turned out to be his desire to escape into the grid when he'd been questioned remorselessly and had a boot firmly on his chest, and that vow Calhoun had made had taken the form of an insulating blanket of ceramic tiles.

Calhoun had created the tiles and her insulating armour (well no doubt she'd _had_ them created for her by someone in her game) as a backup in case she ever needed to confront and defeat him. He'd understood the necessity of backups and couldn't blame her for having a catalogue of her own, and had actually admired her for her choice of weapon.

She must have paid attention to at least _one_ of his technical lectures, because she'd known that if she'd directly attacked him – that if she shot him or hit him – she'd be damaging the physical surge protector itself, and therefore all of the games plugged into it as well. She wouldn't have wanted that on her conscience, and wouldn't have desired it, and so she'd take an indirect route: she'd instead planned to _prevent_ him from doing something whilst she undertook the actions she wanted. She'd also no doubt realised that something as basic as a bullet wouldn't really affect him: that a bullet tearing into a compressed field of electricity wouldn't have the same impact as a bullet barrelling into solid flesh, and would only result in irritation rather than the desired state of total incapacitation.

Calhoun must have suspected that Surge would eventually take matters into his own hands and shut down the race, and she'd prepared herself for such an eventuality. She…well she obviously wouldn't have liked anyone going behind her back and undertaking something she'd already promised she'd do, but she'd almost resigned herself to the fact that it would happen. If Surge _was_ going to shut down the race, which she assumed would be the final outcome, then she'd have a solid justification for lashing out against him. Never mind that her actions weren't fair or reasonable or even logical; she'd convinced herself of the righteousness of them, and she'd undertaken them without hesitation.

'And _you_ don't fully trust her,' Taffyta added matter of factly.

Surge blinked, and felt his face twist at that. 'That's _not_ true. Sergeant Calhoun's actions may be questionable at times, but her motivations _aren't_.'

Taffyta cocked her head slightly to concede that point, but immediately afterwards her eyes narrowed. 'So then why did you shoot her with her own gun?'

Surge sighed, and was pleased to note that no unpleasant sensation had raised its ugly head in response to those words. 'You were right _here_ when I explained why I did that, so I won't waste my breath repeating it again.'

Taffyta also twisted her face in response, but hers was an action of mocking disbelief, rather than in condescending rejection. 'If you'd scanned those wafers I put on her, which we all know you _did_, then you'd have known that a blast of electricity would have short circuited them. You'd have realised that that was the easiest way to deactivate them.'

Taffyta began to contort her face into a soft mocking smile, and Surge felt his stomach twist at the sight of it. Taffyta was right, and with all of his heart Surge wished that she wasn't; he wished that she was exaggerating, and wasn't laying it bare for him to feast his ears upon.

'It's what he warned me about,' Taffyta explained evenly, with all the self-confidence of the righteous. 'Calhoun had the insulating ceramic tiles and armour to begin with, which offered protection to the wafers. It was why I put them on her rather than that big lug of a Wrecker in the first place. We didn't think you'd try and shock her to get rid of them if you ever found out about it; we never thought she'd let you get that close to her in the first place. And then after she actually _used_ them to trap you and stop you from running off, and you felt all guilty about shocking her in an attempt to get away, I was even more confident you wouldn't risk shocking her again; that you wouldn't have the nerve to approach her and shock her, even if you did explain why, and so you wouldn't be able to deactivate them. But I never thought you'd _shoot _her! None of us did. So why _did_ you? But I bet I could guess, and if I'm right, which I probably am, I have to say that you really _really_shouldn't be thinking those thoughts about her Mr. Protector…'

…_Oh. Oh no. No, she…she can't suspect that, it; well it seems like she does. She suspects but she doesn't know, which is just as bad really, but…_

And with a huge amount of willpower, Surge stopped himself from slipping into an explanation of why he'd shot Calhoun when he really didn't have to.

Maybe he'd be forced to think about it in the very near future, or even admit it out loud, but right about now was _not_ the time.

'Sergeant Uppercut doesn't trust you, not really,' Taffyta continued immediately. 'But Turbo _does._'

Surge shook his head once, curtly, the action reluctant and regretful, as he maintained eye contact with the girl speaking words that weren't truly hers. 'No, he doesn't,' he contradicted softly. 'He doesn't trust anyone but himself. …take it from someone who knows.'

Surge found that he couldn't blame Taffyta as much as he should be blaming her, or even as much as he _wanted_ to. She hadn't been the only one seduced by Turbo's words, because he himself had been.

Well to an _extent_ he had been.

Taffyta was a young girl with a young girl's mentality when Turbo had taken over Sugar Rush, and fifteen years of listening to him drip feed her lies and bloated promises and exaggerated praise was guaranteed to have an effect on her. Being singled out of a crowd of similar racers in order to be favoured would be hard for anyone to turn down, and Taffyta would have been grateful for what she would have considered was a rare opportunity being offered by a benevolent Monarch. Turbo would no doubt have encouraged such loyalty and devotion to himself – would no doubt have_ imposed _it – but after all that time, Taffyta would surely have developed some of it naturally.

Surge was arguably the most powerful entity in the entire arcade, yet he'd still fallen victim to someone telling him things he wanted to hear. A bit of attention and a few kind words were often far more powerful than the most violent of threats, and Turbo had known this well.

He had not only only known it, but had wielded such knowledge effectively to get what he wanted out of people. But that of course was just a superficial act of his: when he saw something that immediately threatened his way of life he would act instinctively and violently, with all pretences of charm and subtlety immediately wiped away. He'd demonstrated that when RoadBlasters had been plugged in, and proven it when Vanellope had threatened to cross the finish line in her newly created kart.

Surge was certain that Turbo had genuinely liked him to an extent, and had genuinely respected Taffyta to an extent. But that extent had probably risen to no higher than 15% of the total sum of his feelings towards them. Surge knew he could have miscalculated this, and he often hoped he was wrong about it. He hoped, but could never convince himself of the final figures.

_Maybe you can be convinced now._

…_maybe you should just stop hoping you ever __**will**__ be. No good can come of it you know… _

Surge refocused on Taffyta, and there was a hard line of irritation to his voice now. 'You _still_ haven't explained how Turbo could be alive, and all these delaying tactics convinces me that you're doing nothing but lying.'

Still without breaking eye contact from the man in front of her, Taffyta's lip curled and she pointed a finger upwards to the ceiling. 'The temperature control boxes weren't the only things we improved you know.' Her finger looked sharp and accusing, and there was a trace of smug amusement to her words. 'You didn't _really_ think that tablet computer was telling you the _truth_, did you?'

But before Surge could look at where her finger was pointing to, or before he could analyse those last few words, something killed such an impulse stone dead.

It wasn't her lowering her finger and then putting both hands into her pockets, and it wasn't the soft sigh she released as if in reluctant preparation for admitting something. It had been nothing more than a shift of light behind her eyes, but that had been enough.

Surge didn't know how to quantify it in words, but the best he could come up with was that he instinctively knew she was about to say something to him. No, not just that: he knew she was about to _ask_ him something. But even _more_ than that, he knew what she was about to say; it sounded crazy, but he just _knew_ what she was planning to say. Call it instinct or a distillation of all possible probabilities, but her intended words were so clear to him it was as if they'd already been spoken.

The knowledge of what Taffyta was about to say was all consuming in Surge's mind, and he felt himself lean in towards her, as if pulled by a magnet. This…premonition, this understanding, had reduced all other sights and sounds to background clutter, which even now were receding further and further behind him, as if he was shooting through a black tunnel to leave them behind and was heading towards a tiny point of light, which was Taffyta's imminent words and what constituted, for this moment only, his entire existence.

As if submerged underwater, Surge dimly heard Calhoun yell out 'Hey Surge, someone's set your hidden panel on fire, and don't dare look at us!' But in this immediate moment they had no impact on him whatsoever; they struck him weakly and bounced off pitifully, and failed entirely in their purpose to spear his attention.

He hadn't registered Calhoun beginning to approach him, and he couldn't remember when he'd bunched his hands into fists but that's what they'd become. For this moment only, he couldn't even begin to pretend to care about Calhoun and Ralph and the power box, for the only thing he was interested in was Taffyta, and he was powerless to tear his eyes and focus away from her.

Taffyta regarded him steadily, and there was only a faint tremble to her voice as she released the words Surge already knew existed.

'He…Turbo wants to apologise to you, and to make things right again, so…so why don't you come and join us?'


	14. Calculation

**AN: I have igbogal to thank for the brief mention of a military psychiatrist in the last chapter, which is an idea that's just stuck with me! At present I don't have any plans to write a sequel to this story when I finish it, but I do quite like the idea of writing a few one-shots relating to it as an epilogue of sorts, and there's quite a few characters that could benefit from a visit to a shrink. But that's all in the possible future, whereas this chapter…well this one's bucked the recent trend of being longer than 6,000 words and comes in at over 4,000! I must have done something wrong. Or something right. But like the last chapter this one is more of a set-up for future ones, which could account for its length and style and content.**

**But anyway, as always I thank you for reading this, and for any comments you want to share about it – it always makes my day to read them and to get into discussions with you :) **

* * *

**14. Calculation**

_'He…Turbo wants to apologise to you, and to make things right again. …so why don't you come and join us?'_

'… _why don't you come and join us?'_

This time Surge absorbed Taffyta's words instantly, and felt them dissolve throughout him with no resistance at all. In physical response to them Surge felt his jaw drop and his legs take a large step backwards, as he continued to hold iron tight eye contact with the girl who'd just spoken them.

_Which are pretty stupid actions to take, because doing so gives the impression that you're surprised by her words, when you know you're not. _

…_but maybe it's not a bad impression to __**give**__…_

_You just…need some space to think this through. Yes; some space and some time, because-_

_-but time is exactly what you __**don't**__ have, so think this through quickly and make your decision smartly. _

Even though he could think at almost the speed of light, Surge uncomfortably suspected that analysing Taffyta's offer would take longer than it should. But he really didn't have much time to indulge in speculation, and the only other way to arrive at a considered conclusion was to _think_ quicker. But to do that would require extra power to boost his processors, and the only way he could do _that_ was to draw up extra power from the grid.

_Which will cost you… 1% internal power. Not much at all on the face of it, but you've not got much left to spare don't forget. But to come to a decision and analyse all of Taffyta's words before Calhoun reaches you – or before Turbo suddenly pops up out of thin air – is essential. It's essential and critical and must be done so stop doubting and just do it. Just… do it. _

So he did.

Surge connected subtlety and briefly to the grid, and received a sharp spike of pain up both legs for his efforts.

_**!_Internal Power Supply remaining…14%!**_

Ignoring this miserable warning and its accompanying discomfort, Surge channelled the power to enhance his critical reasoning circuits. It sent them spinning and whirring and primed them with energy, and allowed him to enter into a rather detailed analysis of his current situation with himself. He referenced past actions and omissions, speculated on what the remains of his future could hold, and attempted the ambitious but necessary task of preparing defences against them. It was a brutally honest, uncomfortable, enlightening and ultimately crucial conversation that would affect the lives of everyone out here in the Station with him, and it lasted a grand total of 1.3 seconds of real time.

Surge's instinctive reaction upon hearing Taffyta's words was the sensible and correct one, and burst out freely.

_Well no of __**course**__ I'm not going to come and join you!_

But another voice, tiny and barbed, emerged to speak as well.

[But why not?]

And once this voice had been recognised it refused to go away, and provided a counter point to the arguments that were obvious on the surface but ultimately shallow in nature.

_What do you mean why not? That's obvious!_

[So then explain it to me]

_Because I'd never betray everyone to pally up with Turbo again, __**that's**__ why._

[But who said anything about betrayal?]

…_she…_

[Exactly. Taffyta didn't say you had to abandon or harm everyone if you chose to join them]

_But to join Turbo __**would**__ mean parting with the others though. Well to an __**extent**__ it would. _

[But that hardly means in a fatal sense though, does it?]

…_the others wouldn't like it._

[The others don't like you anyway]

_That's harsh. _

[The truth usually is. Have you ever really been friendly with Ralph and the others in the first place?]

…_I wanted to be. I __**still**__ want to be. _

[I already know that, and that isn't what I asked you. Any chance of giving me a straight answer?]

_I wasn't even truly friendly with __**Turbo**__ in the first place if you think about it._

[I'm going to correctly take your roundabout non-replies as a 'No']

_What's your point?_

[My point is that, to an extent, you _were_ friends with Turbo, and that extent was greater than anything you have now with anyone]

_And as my __**friend **__he treated me so well, didn't he? What with all the lies and betrayal and general indifference he held towards people's lives._

[Taffyta said that Turbo wants to apologise]

_Yes he probably does, now that his plan hasn't unfolded exactly as he wanted and his back's being pushed against the wall. This was probably just a back-up plan he told Taffyta to carry out if the wafers failed and she was discovered before Turbo could make contact with her. _

[But what if he genuinely _does_ want to apologise to you, and to explain all of what he's done?]

_So what if he does? Any sort of apology can't change what he's done; it can't bring back the poor guys from Road Blasters or his own game and it certainly can't undo fifteen years of dictatorial rule in Sugar Rush._

[But doesn't everyone deserve a second chance?]

_No._

[Now who's being harsh?]

_I don't care._

[I think you _do _care, and that you're simply reluctant to face him again, and not just because of what he did to those three games. In fact it's not even _mainly _about what he did or allowed to happen to those games, is it? It's about what he did to _you_]

…_that's-_

[-true, yes, so let's stop beating around the bush and just admit it. You're scared Turbo will give you a heartfelt apology about how he tricked you and manipulated you and lied to you, and you're scared…well actually you're scared of two things: first of all that his apology won't be sufficient, and won't live up to the flawless words you've imagined him perfectly articulating to you, and second of all that his apology _will _be enough, and as a result of his explanation you'll forgive him, and be easy prey to believe the next words that come out of his mouth and act accordingly upon them and then end up regretting them again and beating yourself up for the _next_ fifteen years. Quite a conflict, isn't it? No wonder you're thinking like a jerk]

…_I'm not a jerk, I'm- honestly, what kind of a word is that anyway? It's hardly appropriate, and-_

[-and you're just skirting around yet _another_ subject you know to be true, because it's touched a nerve and you're worried about how the outcome will portray you in the eyes of others]

…_not…not __**just **__me; it's…it's how those outcomes will affect __**others **__in the arcade._

[You can't know what happens all of the time, and you certainly can't predict how other characters will act and react]

_But I __**should**__ be able to! Otherwise what's the point of me? I'm here to protect everyone, and I can't do that if I don't consider all the possibilities, and certainly not if I put my own feelings above my purpose._

[Why can't you do both?]

_No-one gets everything they want, let alone me._

[Stop feeling sorry for yourself]

_If I don't, no-one else will._

[Pathetic. That's the first genuine argument you've given as to why Turbo might take advantage of you. You _do_ protect everyone and you do a damn good job at it, despite the occasional mistake or oversight you make which you beat yourself up _far_ too much over for, so stop whining and pull yourself together]

…_and do what?_

[Be honest with yourself and make a decision. For the first time in a very long time, you need to face something head on and deal with the consequences as they strike, instead of ducking them. They may hurt, but that's just unfortunate. That's _life_, and you need to get one]

…_I have a perfectly fine life thank you very much._

[No, you have an _existence_]

…

[And you don't much like it]

…_and…and siding with __**Turbo**__ will get me one, will it? It will just magically drop into my lap and that will be that?_

[Stop being an idiot; of course it won't happen like that. If you want something you need to seek it out; you need to take action and _do _something to bring it about, instead of moaning and complaining and blaming others when things don't work out perfectly or even at all]

…_so what do I want then? To save everyone single handedly? To have them declare undying and genuine friendship to me? To have __**Turbo **__do that?_

[Yes]

…_oh, well, that's just-_

[But more than that, what you want first of all is _answers_. You want to know if Taffyta is lying or not, and you want to know what Turbo eventually wants. And ultimately, the only thing you _really_ want – the only thing you've _ever _wanted – is accurate information so that you can do your job properly _and_ be liked and respected for doing so]

…_I…yes. …YES._

[About time you listened to sense]

…_so what do we do about it?_

[Fancy another trip into the grid?]

_Not really._

[No, nor do I. But it's necessary]

_How?_

[You know full well that various sub-grids store a copy of all instructions that take place in Game Central Station. Access the grid, and you can find copies of things such as the commands given to override the temperature control boxes. You know they will exist, because the boxes have never been off-line. If they had been deactivated, you would have been warned about it]

_But that information will be in the Archive; it will just be small lines of secondary directive pixels mixed in with other routine instructions. It could take me a while to locate them._

[So stop moaning and get on with it then]

_But that won't give me information about everything I need to know._

[You have to start somewhere]

…_but…but what if I don't have enough power to get back out again?_

[Stop being so melodramatic; a grid trip won't cost you that much power and, even if it _does_, so what? Your purpose is to protect the games and characters in here, and ultimately that's what your life force is designed to do]

_Let's not sugar coat things, shall we?_

[A sweet outer layer can only disguise the inside truth for so long. In fact-]

_-__**any **__outer layer can only disguise __**any**__thing hidden underneath it for long, yes I know._

[Are you sure?]

_Yes. And Turbo knows it too. He-_

[-loves a disguise, yes, and not just for himself. As…much as you want to rage against Taffyta, you know deep down that she _is_ telling the truth about a lot of things. Especially with regards to your former circuit racer friend]

…_I…know. Yes, she…she is. The…the temperature control boxes probably __**have **__been tampered with, but…but __I know them perfectly! I __**created**__ them! The only thing I __**don't**__ know is how Taffyta got hold of one in the __**first**__ place! But she __**did **__get hold of one and did something to it, and…and…oh. __**Oh**__. Does that mean she was also telling the truth about the temperature boxes not being the __**only**__ thing they improved? Does she mean that the…that the __**tablet computer **__was improved as well? And by that she of course means that it was __**compromised**__; that it was modified and changed and…and that the conversation I had with the CPU on the tablet computer was a __**fake**__? That what it told me - that Turbo's regeneration had only just begun when the engine was activated - was a __**lie**__? _

[Probably]

_Well what does that mean then? That Turbo was regenerated __**before**__ Vanellope completed the circuit? Or had he been re-created even before __**that**__? And if so __**when**__? A day, a week, a month ago? And who would have programmed the tablet to give those responses out to me? Sour Bill? Turbo? Had __**Turbo**__ done it? Had he actually been __**sitting**__ somewhere and typing a response out to me? Or had he programmed the tablet with those set replies regardless of what I said to it?_

[Possibly]

…_it's- the computer had been modified, and…and it showed me what I wanted to see._

[And what _did_ you want to see?]

…_it told me that Turbo's regeneration was commencing, and…and it told me that __**Taffyta**__ was responsible for it!_

[Stop acting so shocked and ask yourself _why_ Turbo would want you to believe those things]

…_because…because how could I __**not**__ act on the claim that Turbo was being regenerated, especially since I knew it was actually possible?_

[…keep going…]

_It…it was a distraction; it was a distraction to get me to access the backup outlet and investigate the engine with the hope of putting a stop to his regeneration process. And the others would have been confident Taffyta would be trapped in the barrier, and they would have come with me, leaving Turbo to visit her alone._

[Why did the computer specifically name her though?]

…_because…because Turbo knew that I would have to question her. I couldn't just __**ignore**__ her forever, and would have to eventually speak to her, either before or after checking out the engine. And that's…that's when Taffyta would have been instructed to make her offer to me about joining them. _

[You're not going to wallow in more self-pity about tricked yet again, are you?]

…_not…not ye- No. …NO. _

[Thank goodness for small miracles]

_Although I should have double checked what the tablet computer told me, especially about the energy waves being unstable._

[You've got that right; there aren't _ever _any spiking grid fluctuations unless the electricity for the whole arcade has been compromised, which it _hasn't. _Which means the engine could have been terminated safely after all]

_I was…distracted; caught up with things that were moving so __**fast **__and…and he didn't want me just deactivating the engine immediately upon reading about it, which I could have done. Which I still __**could **__do. Just send a long range electrical pulse to the grid matrix surrounding it, like I originally did to the place in Sugar Rush where I thought it was._

[…you're not going to try and shut it down now though, are you?]

…_no._

[…oh I see where this is going, and what plan you're starting to cook up. But did you think to confirm that the engine _actually_ played a part in Vanellope's current condition?]

_It…must have! It…she hadn't calibrated her pacemaker to cope with what she did. She completed that circuit and the transfer of power overwhelmed her. It overwhelmed __**everything**__; she completed the circuit, activated the engine, the Station nearly imploded, and she turned herself into a pile of flashing blocks because the voltage produced wasn't compatible with her pacemaker. It deactivated her device and activated the engine she'd somehow managed to move._

[Really? From a circuit? She's knocking on death's door and everything that happened did so because she connected a _circuit?_]

…_it's the most logical and likely explanation. _

[It's another thing you never had time to confirm, that's what it is]

…

[And when does a completed circuit flash _purple _when two wires are connected on it?]

…

[I think you know where _I'm_ going with this one…]

…_it…the circuit board was another thing that was tampered with, wasn't it? It had been modified. It had, as Taffyta would no doubt put it, been __**improved**_. …Taffyta…

[If you were a betting man you'd wager your last clipboard she was involved in that, wouldn't you?]

…_she could have…given…Vanellope that circuit? But to do what? Harm her? Destroy the Station? Actually __**kill**__ her? Is that what you're saying? That Taffyta wanted her **dead?**_

[No, that's what _you're _saying. And to an extent it's what you genuinely believe. At the height – or should that be the _depth_ – of your involvement with Turbo, you would have done almost anything for him]

_I wouldn't have __**killed**__ for him!_

[That reminds me: are you going to accept Taffyta's offer to join up with him or not?]

_I would never have even __**harmed **__anyone for him! It's in my programming to protect people, not to harm them!_

[…but you _did _allow him to view the inner workings of the Arcade in your office, didn't you?]

_I didn't exactly put the konami code into his outstretched hands you know!_

[Just as much harm can be done through action as can omission don't forget]

_Oh good, a well-timed preachy message to mull over. Someone's __**intention **__is more important than their actions or lack of, and I __**never **__intended for Turbo to see that code. You know something? I really __**am**__ getting sick and tired of blaming myself for how Turbo unintentionally saw that code, and what he then __**chose **__to do with it._

[Good. Keep this up and we might actually get somewhere]

_And where might that be?_

[Selective hearing back already? How many times have I told you we need to go back into the grid?]

_But…if Turbo __**does **__have a way of monitoring my actions in there…if he can see what I'm doing out __**here**__ even, then…_

[Then you need to take a leaf out of his book, and cover it up. Distract him. Distract them _all_, and get in and out of there like a flash]

…_Vanellope's blocks are flashing…_

[What? Stop getting off track and-]

_**No**__; this __**is **__the track. Vanellope's flashing, it…oh. Oh. __**OH**__. Oh that makes so much more sense now! Especially when you consider the short amount of time she was suddenly left with after she completed the circuit. Three seconds remaining? Nonsense. That must only have happened because…because oh, if that is actually true then that was bad of him. That was terrible and wrong of __**both **__of them to do. Vanellope didn't deserve that. She didn't deserve any of that, and she doesn't deserve what's __**still **__happening to her!_

[So then put it right. Get into the grid, double check things, do those _other _things I know you've got planned out for them, save Vanellope, and then you can be a hero to one and all]

…_that's a lot to do._

[Yes. But you know it _can _be done. It can be done and it _will _be done. So less procrastination and more grid jumping please]

…_fine. I'll go into the grid, and hope my power supply lasts until the emergency backup arrives. But…but Calhoun and Ralph are close; they're __**very **__close, and they can't see what I'm about to do. They can't even __**know**__ about it, until…well until the time is right._

[There's not much time left to do those things before they reach you. Calhoun at least will certainly notice some of them before you have a chance to put them back again]

…_I'll lie._

[She'll hate you]

_She'll understand._

[You hope she will]

_I __**know **__she will._

[Really? She won't go easy on you]

_It wouldn't be the first time._

[You won't like it]

_Again, it wouldn't be the first time._

[You sure you want her _that _against you, even if it is for a short period of time?]

_No, of course not. But it will be for her own good. Ignorance will protect her. It will protect her __**and**__ Ralph and…and oh, it will even protect __**Taffyta**__. It will__be for the best for them, and…and it will also, ultimately, without any lingering doubts whatsoever, eventually be the best thing for Turbo as well._

[…ambitious]

_I thought you wanted me to set my sights high?_

[I want you to set them _low_ – you need to get into the grid]

…_the necessary distractions will cost me more power._

[True. But will they be worth it?]

…_yes. …YES._

[Then let's get this show on the road then. After you've decided on one last thing that is…]

_Which is…?_

[What answer are you going to give Taffyta?]

…_Taffyta won't be expecting what I'm about to do next._

[…is that an inappropriate level of self-satisfied smugness I hear in your voice?]

…_most definitely not. It's nothing more than a completely justifiable trace of contentment in knowing that I will soon be able to discharge my duties effectively and efficiently._

[…if you _are_ going to enjoy startling Taffyta _again_ with an unexpected action, then why not do it properly? Why not _show_ it to her? That'll _really_ throw her]

…_if I __**did **__do something like that, say if I grinned at her and nodded my head before I vanished, it would only be to add to the illusion of the distraction; it would only be to further wrong foot her and leave her with more questions than answers._

[Sounds like a completely plausible justification for such an appearance. Too bad it isn't completely true…]

…_would it really be inappropriate?_

[Of course not! That little brat needs a taste of her own medicine, and it's not going to do her any harm. But there's something _else_ you need to give her though…]

_An intellectually stimulating lecture on the morality of lying?_

[An _answer_. Stop dodging the issue: what are you going to say to her?]

…

[What are you going to _do_?]

…_the right thing._

[Which _is_…?]

…_not what may be expected. _

[You're impossible, you know that?]

_The sooner this is started, the sooner it can end._

[What an insightful statement; I really wish _I'd_ thought of that]

…_shall we go now?_

[_Yes! _Go. _NOW_]

…_Yes. _

_NOW_

With a judder Surge's processors screeched to a halt, and his internal analysis was cut off sharply.

Despite his plan to immediately confuse Taffyta and disappear into the grid, Surge couldn't help but glance up at one of the temperature control boxes. _I'll be finding out about you soon…_

But before he could look at anything else, he heard Calhoun bellow 'After I get some answers out of Taffyta you best believe I'm getting them out of you!'

_Best not hang around here much longer…_

Deliberately ignoring her, Surge then knelt down and put one hand flat against the floor. _Obviously it's just as easy to connect to the grid from an upright position, but this just __**looks **__so much more than what it is. And talking of looks…_

Surge then raised his head to make eye contact with Taffyta and, without any conscious effort behind it, felt his expression smoothly transform into the one he wanted her to see. He felt it become the one he _wanted_, and was rewarded by seeing a whiplash of uncertainty strike her face.

Feeling his lip curl upwards even higher and his loaded grin expand even wider, Surge then nodded his head curtly at her. _My apologies if that's not quite the answer you were expecting from me Ms Muttonfudge._

He then pressed down harder, pushed his internal warnings to one side and, without breaking eye contact with Taffyta, connected to the grid and executed the first action on his list.

The backup lights were immediately cut, and the Station was plunged into total blackness.

…_but not, as I suspected, the infra-red trails of light streaming out of the temperature control boxes. They're still alight. Now let's confirm a few __**other**__ things…_

And to do so accurately, Surge first made sure that he wouldn't be seen or heard or even suspected of doing so.

He first tripped the switch to activate all of the warning alarms, which immediately unleashed a thunderstorm of mechanical screeching to rain down on everyone in the Station. The bolts of compressed sound waves had a frequency so sharp and dense that someone wouldn't even be able to hear their own thoughts, much less anything else that could generate a sound.

Surge then ignited half a dozen incendiary illumination circuits, and pushed past the overload warnings they threw up in order to overwhelm them with power. The result of this was that they buckled and imploded, and set off a chain reaction that spread to _all _of the illumination outlets in the Station. They were the path of least resistance for the surging tidal wave of light behind them, and the electrons exploded out of them all at once to create and sustain a solid wall of light so bright and white and painfully dazzling that it was all consuming even with your eyes closed tightly shut.

Everyone in the Station was rendered deaf and blind and confused, which meant that he could undertake his work without being disturbed. He could do it uninterrupted and in secret, and he could do it precisely.

He could do it well, and could fight back and actually _act _for once, instead of simply being forced to _re_act to things.

And to do that, he needed to disappear.

Which is exactly what he then did.


End file.
